A Fresh Start
by Alcharma
Summary: What if instead of encountering the Scoobies after having to dig herself out of her own grave in Bargaining Part 2, Buffy ran into Sam and Dean Winchester who were in Sunnydale on a hunt? Buffy/Dean pairing with a strong Buffy/Sam friendship.
1. Buffy Meets Sam and Dean Winchester

A little fic in response to the "Recently Resurrected Buffy Jumps Dean" challenge by winchestersgirl at tthfanfic. Thanks for the idea, it's a really fun plot bunny!

Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, own neither Buffy or Supernatural. They both belong to their respective geniuses, Joss and Kripke. I'm just borrowing them for a while for my own entertainment. Basically, most of this chapter is taken directly from "Bargaining Part 2," Buffy Season 6, episode 2. I may also steal some of the Supernatural episodes as well, depending on how creative I feel and if I want to make up new monsters or not. We'll see how that goes. Transcripts taken from twiztv.

This is my attempt to avoid studying for finals... I may fail, but I had a lot of fun writing it! Hope you enjoy!

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Buffy was dressed is a long, flowing, white dress, her long blond hair hanging down her back in soft ringlets. She closed her eyes, reveling in the calm around her. It was quiet, and warm, and though she could feel the warmth of the sun on her skin, though it did not blind her when she reopened her eyes. She sighed, giving a soft smile. Finally. She was finished. No more slaying. No more bloodshed. No more responsibilities. She could finally rest in peace. Suddenly, she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder and she turned around, only to be met with her mother's smiling face.

"Mom," she said smiling as Joyce caressed her daughter's cheek with her hand.

"Goodbye, sweetheart," Joyce responded softly, bringing her hand to Buffy's forehead and running her fingers through her hair.

"Goodbye?" asked Buffy, furrowing her brow and frowning slightly in confusion. "What are you talking about? Where are you going?" But her mother didn't respond; she simply stood there with her hand on Buffy's cheek and a small smile. "What-..." But she was cut off as a shock vibrated through her body, and she gasped in pain. "Mom... what-..." She was cut off again as her mother's face faded from view, and her vision was flooded with darkness.

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Buffy's eyes snapped open, letting out a gasp as air rushed into her lungs. Blinking her eyes wildly, she panicked when she couldn't see anything; it was pitch black. All of the memories of her sacrifice, as well as her acceptance into heaven came flooding back to her. Her breathing quickened as she continued to pant for breath, stretching her arms out in front of her, only to be halted by something hard and solid. She tried to stretch her arms to her sides, but was once again blocked in her attempt. She felt a wave of panic wash through her and started to thrash, kicking her feet against the sides of her coffin and pounding on the plank above her with her fists. She opened her mouth in the shape of a scream, but no sound emerged, only the sound of her ragged, frantic breathing. Grabbing a handful of the cloth lining the inside of her coffin and ripped it free, throwing the cloth toward her feet. She continued to pound on the damp wood above her, emitting frantic grunting noises as a result of the exertion. A few moments later, after a couple of frenzied punches, the wood broke, and Buffy gasped as dirt poured into the coffin, completely covering her. Squeezing her eyes shut to keep the dirt out, she grabbed the sides of the hole that she had just made and pulled, widening it and causing even more dirt to rain down on her face and torso. Clawing wildly at the dirt surrounding her, she pulled herself out of the hole she had made, pushing her body upwards and forcing her body upwards. Feeling her hand shoot out of the ground and into the air, she slammed it against the dirt, using it as leverage to pull herself out of the grave.

She collapsed to the ground in pain, curling into the fetal position, as the senses that had been dulled in heaven returned full force. She squeezed her eyes shut as the bright lights blinded her and covered her ears with her hands as loud rumbling and screams assaulted her ears. The smell of wet dirt and grass completely overwhelmed her, and she could feel the dampness from the grass soaking into her dress, making her shiver uncontrollably. Finally, as her eyes adjusted to the light and the rumbling and screams dulled down to a quiet roar, Buffy opened her eyes and removed her hands from her ears, using them to push herself off of the grass. Looking around, she noticed that she couldn't see clearly, the shapes around her appearing blurred and indistinct. Stumbling forward, she continued walking until her legs began to ache from the lack of use, finding herself in the middle of downtown Sunnydale. She looked around in confusion at the blurry burning cars and debris that littered the street. Suddenly, a motorcycle sped past, the loud roar making Buffy jump back and once again cover her ears with her hands. Breaking into a run, she fled as fast as she could away from the loud sound, only stopping when she could no longer hear it anymore. She leaned against a solid object next to her, jumping away from it and covering her ears as the security system of the car she had leaned against turned on. Gritting her teeth in pain, Buffy flinched as the lights of the house in front of her switch on and a man came running out onto the porch.

"What are you doing?" he demanded angrily. Buffy opened her eyes slightly. Her vision was still severely blurred, but she could make out his figure and the fact that he was carrying a shot gun. "Get away from there!" Buffy continued to squint in the direction of the voice. "Do you hear me? I said get off my property!" Buffy stood completely still, trying to decipher what he was yelling at her. "Leave us alone! Get outa here!" Suddenly, he shot into the air, and Buffy jumped, startled at the sudden loud sound over the car alarm, and ran as quickly as she could away from the house.

She continued to run, loosing both of her shoes in the process, until she reached an abandoned parking lot. Walking closer, she tilted her head to the side curiously, observing what, her impaired vision told her, appeared to be fire and a crowd of people.

"A symbolic act commemorating the new order around here... and ridding ourselves of any not-so-pleasant reminds of the old," Buffy heard a voice announce. She continued to walk toward them slowly, squinting at the brightness of the fire. "All in one, really, _really_, violent swoop." Buffy walked up behind two of the figures, not even reacting when she noticed the demonic features of those facing her. "Gentlemen, start your engines," called what appeared to be the leader of the group, aiming a small pistol toward the sky. Buffy looked into the middle of the group, her eyes widened in shock; the BuffyBot was standing in the middle of the circle with chains attached to both of her arms and both of her legs. Following the chains with her eyes, Buffy saw that each was attached to a motorcycle, each facing a different direction. "Bye bye, Slayer," said the leader and fired one shot into the air.

"No!" Buffy screamed, and the demons closest to her turned around, eyes widening in shock as they realized who she was. The four motorcycles sped off, each wrenching an arm or leg from its socket and sending the Bot's torso flying. Noticing that all of the demons were staring at her, Buffy's eyes widened even further, much like those of a deer caught in the headlights, as the demons near her moved aside so that the others can see her.

"Another one for the fire, boys," the leader says with a wicked grin. "Tear it up." Feeling all of the demons' eyes on her, Buffy backed away slowly before spinning around and sprinting off. Without even paying attention attention to where she was going, she continued to run, periodically peering over her shoulder at the demons on motorcycles that were chasing her. All of a sudden, one of the demons came up behind her and cut in front of her, blocking her escape route. She skid to a stop, twirling around, only to see another heading straight for her, swinging a chain over his head. Without even stopping to think, Buffy ran full speed toward the demon with the chain, ducking and rolling seconds before it would have hit her, looking back to see the chainless demon get hit in the face with the chain, knocking him off his bike. Without another glance, Buffy pushed herself to her feet and sped off in the opposite direction. Closing her eyes in an attempt to wish the present events away, she almost ran face first into a fence but caught herself in time, grabbing the top and flinging herself over it. Dropping to the ground in a low crouch, Buffy found herself looking up at two men; one was extremely tall with brown, shaggy hair that almost covered his eyes, and the other was shorter, with short, cropped hair and a more muscular physique.

"Hey!" the shorter one called in surprise, jumping back slightly in shock. Buffy's gaze flitted between the two of them, trying to determine whether or not they were a threat.

"Are you alright?" the taller one asked gently, taking a step closer to her. Buffy jerked to a standing position and sprinted off, trying to get away from these two strangers as quickly as possible.

"Wait! Hey!" she could hear them calling, but didn't respond, skidding around a corner into an ally and falling to her knees after a failed attempt at stopping. Still able to hear the screams of the two men chasing her, she crawled toward the wall, crouching between it and a pile of random garbage. Even though her face was hidden by her hands, Buffy heard the two run into the ally and stop once they had caught sight of her.

"Hey," the taller one tried again. Buffy turned her face toward him but jerked and tried to burrow herself into the filthy brick wall when he took a step in her direction. "Hey, it's okay," he continued, holding his hands up in front of him in a gesture of surrender. Buffy didn't say anything, and he stepped closer. She removed her gaze from the man in front of her, her eyes flickering wildly around the ally, trying to assess where she was and what was going on. When she looked toward him again, the man was only a few feet from her, and the other was standing about ten feet away, watching the interaction with his arms crossed.

"I'm Sam," the man introduced himself, taking another step. _Sam_, Buffy said to herself, attempting to match his face with the name he had just given her. "And that's my brother, Dean." Buffy looked over toward the other man curiously, and he gave her a small nod. She looked back at Sam who was now in a crouched position a little more than a foot away from her. "Are you alright?" Buffy didn't answer, continuing to stare at him, not really comprehending what he was saying to her. "Dean, her hands are bleeding."

"The girl is obviously a wack job," Dean countered, walking closer to his brother and the unidentified girl. "She's probably homeless. It's not our job to get people off the street."

"Dude, have a heart... This girl looks like she's been through a lot," Sam said, sending his brother a glare. Buffy continued to look between the two of them, not really understanding what was going on.

"Hey look who it is. The Slayer! Alive and kickin' after all!" Sam and Dean spun around, both taking a step back after seeing the group of 15 or so demons. Buffy glanced toward the leader of the group but remained motionless. "Well alive, anyway." He took a step toward Buffy, Sam, and Dean.

"Hey, get away from her," Sam said, eyes hard and fists clenched at his side, while Dean moved so that he was standing next to his brother.

"Now, my boys, see, that's tricky," said the demon, taking a step toward the three. "They came looking for a massacre. Now, you can either get outa our way or get your asses handed to you if you choose to protect that little girl." He jerked his thumb in Buffy's direction.

"There's no way in hell we're gonna leave and let you do what ever you want to her," snarled Dean, his eyes narrowing.

"Well, if that's how you're gonna be," chuckled the demon and turned away, only to spin back and punch Dean directly in the face, causing him to stumble and fall to the ground. Glancing back at his brother, Sam charged the demon, only to be knocked aside. Buffy looked from Sam to Dean, taking in their sprawled bodies, and something snapped. The Slayer in her roared to life, ready to kick the asses of anything threatening the lives of innocents. She pushed herself to her feet, and with a glint in her eye, walked right up to the lead demon.

"Ah, guess it's your turn, princess." He drew his fist back and punched her in the face, causing her head to whip to the side, but her body did not move at all. Opening her eyes, she saw Dean look at her in awe from the ground before scrambling to his feet and making his way toward his brother, helping him to his feet. Slowly, Buffy turned her head away from the two and back to the demon, smiling inwardly at the fear shining in his eyes. The demon threw another punch to her face, but she grabbed his fist before it made contact, holding it immobile. With her other hand, she punched him in the face twice before kicking him in the stomach, sending him to the ground. Looking up, she saw that none of the other demons had stepped forward and continued to stand in a semi-circle, looking at her nervously.

Suddenly, after a moment of staring down at their immobile leader, the other demons yelled and jumped forward to attack Buffy. She saw Sam and Dean grab a couple of them before throwing herself headfirst into the fight. Blocking a punch to her face with her arm, she punched the demon in the face, sending him reeling, before punching another in the stomach. Seeing that a demon charging toward her was in possession of a knife, she grabbed his arm with both hands and swung him in a circle, letting go so that he bowled over two of his comrades. Kicking another in the groin, she used a baseball bat that she had picked up from the floor to knock a demon in front of her to the ground.

Looking around wildly to find her two new acquaintances, she noticed Sam being pinned to a wall by this throat by one of the demons and Dean fighting to get to him. Flinging off a demon that had attached itself to her back, she sprinted toward Sam, wrenching his attacker away from him by the back of his jacket, punching him before throwing him to the floor. Without another glance at Sam, Buffy once again threw herself into the fight, grabbing the arm of a knife-wielding demon and plunging it into another before grabbing the knife and slitting the demon's throat. Kicking her leg out behind her, Buffy knocked another down before grabbing one to her left and swiftly twisting his head around, breaking it with a _snap_. Looking around her, she saw that all of the demons had been defeated, Sam and Dean having taken out a few of their own.

"That was... Wow," Dean said, walking toward her while Sam approached from the left. The stop in front of her, staring at her in awe. Suddenly, Sam took another step closer, and Buffy jumped back, fear once again flooding her core. Feeling overwhelmed and not wanting to deal with the situation, Buffy spun around on her heel and took off, not sparing the two boys another glance. She continued to run until she was out of breath, stumbling to a stop, clutching her stomach in pain. Quickly catching her breath, she looked up, only to see the tower that she had jumped from, the place where she had given her life to save the world. Without stopping to think about it, she walked over to it and grabbed the railing, pulling herself up the many flights of stairs. When she reached the top, she closed her eyes, remembering the last time she had been standing there. Right before she had thrown herself off the edge. Before she had died. Before she had gone to heaven. Before she had been wrenched out and brought back to this... hell.

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"_Buffy ... no!" Dawn cried, dressed in a long blue dress, her eyes already filled with tears._

"_Dawnie, I have to," Buffy said in a calm voice, brushing a lock of chestnut brown hair away from her sister's face._

"_No!"_

"_Listen to me," demanded Buffy, grabbing Dawn's upper arms, forcing her to look her in the eyes. "Please, there's not a lot of time, listen." Dawn nodded, tears pooling in her bright blue eyes. "I love you. I will always love you. But this is the work that I have to do." She paused, reaching out to brush the tears from her sister's face. "Tell Giles..." Her voice broke with emotion, but she quickly continued. "Tell Giles I figured it out. And I'm okay." Her eyes filled with tears as Dawn continued to shake with silent sobs. "And give love to my friends. You have to take care of them now. You have to take care of each other." Dawn attempted to pull away, but Buffy held strong, gripping her upper arms tightly. "You have to be strong." Dawn looked up into her sister's face, renewed tears spilling from her eyes. Buffy didn't even try to wipe them away this time. "Dawn, the hardest thing in this world... is to live in it." Buffy looked straight into Dawn's eyes, her own vision blurring slightly with unshed tears. "Be brave. Live." There was a pause where the two sisters continued to stare at each other, neither moving a muscle. "For me." _

_With these last words, Buffy pressed her lips to Dawn's forehead and pulled away. Turning toward the edge of the platform, she gave her sister one last look before taking a deep breath and sprinting toward the portal. Reaching the edge, she dove off in a graceful swan dive, grimacing in pain as electricity ran through her body. There was a flash of white life and then nothing._

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Buffy snapped back to reality, blinking her eyes to ward off the final traces of the memory. Calmly, she walked toward to the edge of the platform and peered over, not even noticing how far up she was.

"Buffy, no," she remembered Dawn saying, trying to convince her to stay with her.

"Dawnie, I have to," Buffy replied quietly to memory-Dawn, continuing to stare down at the ground.

"No! Wait!" A male voice startled Buffy out of her thoughts and she turned to see Sam and Dean standing at the opposite end of the platform, making their way toward her. "Wait!" Sam called out, stopping suddenly, not wanting to startle her into jumping. Dean came to a halt next to him, looking at Buffy curiously.

"Hey," Dean tried, taking a step forward. "Why don't you come back here and-..." He was cut off as the tower creaked and shuddered beneath his feet, causing him to halt in his advance. Buffy turned away from them and back to the edge of the platform.

'_Do it_,' she thought to herself. 'Y_ou'll go back to heaven. To mom. Away from all this. Don't think about it. Just do it._'

"Hey, no! Stop!" Buffy continued to stare down at the ground for a second before turning her attention back to Dean. He was gesturing for her to walk toward them. "Let's not do anything rash, okay? Just walk toward us... Nice and slow... Don't want this damn thing to fall apart while we're standing on it." Buffy continued to stare at him.

"Hey," called Sam's soft voice. Buffy turned her head toward him. He started to take a step forward, but the tower once again shook, and he stayed where he was. "I don't know what's wrong. But we can help you. It's sort of what we do. We help people. Just... just come here, okay? Please?" Buffy continued to stand in place, her hazel eyes locked with his green ones.

"Is... this hell?" she finally asked, her voice quiet and raw from the lack of use. She saw Sam's eyes widen slightly but made no indication that she had seen it.

"This girl's obviously crazy," she heard Dean say, but payed him no attention.

"Dean, shut up," Sam hissed, sending his brother a glare before returning his gaze to Buffy. "No, this isn't hell. You're alive. Whatever happened to you, whatever you've been through, it's over now. We can help you. Just-..." The tower shook again, and Dean grabbed his brother's shoulder to steady himself. "Please! Come here! We need to get out of here!"

"It was so..." Buffy said quietly, turning to look down at the ground once again, "clear... on this spot. I remember... how... shiny... and clear everything was. But now... now..."

"Listen!" Sam yelled over the loud creaking. "We need to get out of her! Just-..."

"Sam!" she heard Dean shout. She turned around just in time to see a piece of the tower break off and Dean shove Sam off the platform into the stairway to avoid getting hit by it. It crashed into the platform with a loud _clang_ and then plummeted to the ground, making the tower shake violently. "Dammit!" He turned away from Buffy and back toward Sam. "Sam, get out of here! Go!"

"Dean, no!" Sam called from the safety of the stairwell. "I'm not leaving you or her here!"

"Sam! Listen to me for once in your life!" Dean yelled, getting frustrated. Uninterested, Buffy turned back toward the edge, her Slayer balance preventing her from getting pitched over the edge. "I've got her! Just go! I can't do this if I have to worry about your ass, too!" Sam must have complied because she could her the clank of footsteps running down the metal staircase, causing the tower to lurch even more violently. Buffy closed her eyes, taking a step closer to the edge. "Hey, no! Wait!" Buffy stopped and turned toward him. "You don't want to do this," he continued, taking a step closer to her. "Whatever happened... Sam and I... We can help you. Just... Come to me, okay?" Buffy hesitated for a moment, looking over her shoulder at the ground before focusing her attention on the man standing in front of her. Slowly, she nodded, seeing his sigh of relief. However, before she could take a step toward him, the tower gave a violent lurch, sending her tumbling over the edge.

"No!"

Buffy closed her eyes, feeling the rushing of air caress her skin and blow her hair wildly around her head and hearing the whistling of the wind in her ears. Her friends' faces flashed behind her closed eyelids: Dawn, Willow, Xander, Giles, Spike, Angel, Tara... before... A strong arm wrapped around her waist, jerking her to a stop in mid air and causing her eyes to snap open. Looking up, she saw Dean clutching her body to his with his right hand while his left grasped a hanging rope. She looked down, seeing that they were about thirty feet above the ground. Suddenly, the rope dropped, once again sending them plummeting to the ground. Buffy closed her eyes, wrapping her arms around his neck and clinging to him like a child, burying her face in his neck. They jerked to a stop once again as the rope snagged on its pulley, causing Dean to let out a breath he had been holding. However, their suspension didn't last long, and the rope snapped and the two fell the remaining ten feet onto the hard, concrete road. Buffy landed flat on her back, knocking the wind out of her, causing her to gasp for breath. She opened her eyes only to be met with the sight of the tower falling directly above her, but before she could utter a sound, a pair of strong hands grabbed her shoulders and dragged her backwards, stopping as the tower crashed to the ground, missing her feet by mere inches.

"Dean!" she heard Sam cry and turned her head to see him running toward them. Dean grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet, holding her at arms length to assess whether or not she was injured. "Hey, are you alright?"

"Peachy with a side of keen," Dean answered in a gruff voice, letting his arms fall from Buffy's shoulders to his side. "Are you alright?" he asked her. Slowly she nodded, looking between the two brothers.

"What's your name?" Sam asked quietly, taking a step toward her so that she had to crane her neck to look him in the eyes. She paused for a second before answering.

"Buffy," she whispered, looking down at her feet.

"Well, Buffy, can we take you back to our motel? Get you cleaned up?" She nodded again, not making another sound, continuing to stare at the ground in front of her. "Okay." She felt a hand on the small of her back push her forward, and she looked up, seeing that they were steering her in the direction of a shiny, black car. Making their way toward it, Sam opened one of the rear doors, gesturing for her to sit down. She complied, sliding onto the leather seat, looking up into Dean's eyes as he covered her with a blanket before closing the door. Leaning her face against the cool window, she stared out into the street, wondering what she was doing, as the sound of classic rock filled the car.

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Well, that's it for now. Hope you enjoyed it! I'll probably continue this, but I'm not really sure. Please send me a review if you liked it!


	2. New Friends and Allies

Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, own neither Buffy or Supernatural. They both belong to their respective geniuses, Joss and Kripke. I'm just borrowing them for a little while for my own entertainment. The plot bunny belongs to winchestersgirl, as it's based on her "Recently Resurrected Buffy Jumps Dean" challenge at I had no idea that this story was going to be so popular! It was just a little something I whipped up in an hour after reading winchestersgirl's challenge at to the voice of, dreaming.sapphire, cRiMsOnGoDdEsS01, Kriti, hiphopdaze, and magicisagift for your reviews of encouragement! I'm so glad that you're enjoying this little story so far, and I hope that you continue to enjoy it:)

Allen Pitt: They probably will realize that her body's missing, plus I added a small scene in which Buffy sees them, but I won't be concentrating on the Scoobies, as the story is from Buffy's POV, so I'm not sure whether or not I will address this issue. I guess we'll have to see!

Sabryna: The best you've ever read? DAMN now that's a compliment! I'm so glad you're liking it so far and hopefully this chapter will be up to par!

Victoria87: Although I did like Buffy with Spike, I like her with Dean so much better! I'm glad you think the same thing! I haven't decided on Sam's reaction with them as a couple, but I'll cross that bridge when I get to it. I don't know if I'll write a OMWF with the boys because I'm not that creative, and I'll probably follow the SPN storyline more than the Buffy storyline, if I include any of the Buffy storyline at all! Glad you're liking it so far!

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Just as a heads up, the next chapter will start with a SPN episode. I won't be doing all of them, as this fic will be FAR too long, but I'll be picking the ones that I like best. I'm open to suggestions if anyone wants a particular episode written. I'll probably stick to the transcripts because whenever I watch SPN, I think "what would Buffy do if she was there?" and it'll entertain me greatly to do that.

But anyways, enough jabbering, on with the story:)

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Buffy continued to stare out the window, not really seeing anything, as her warm breath left small puffs of condensation on the cool glass. The sounds of Blue Oyster Cult, which Buffy recognized from one of the times that Spike had taken control of the radio at the Magic Box, played softly as Sam and Dean whispered between themselves, keeping their voices low so as not to disturb her. However, that didn't do much good, as she could every single word due to her Slayer hearing. A few minutes later, they pulled into the parking lot of a seedy, rundown motel, the kind that men go to late at night to screw their mistresses, and parked in font of the main office. Dean turned off the car and got out, heading to the front desk to get a room, while Sam exited the Impala and opened the rear door, holding out a hand to Buffy to help her out. Taking his hand reluctantly, she stepped out of the car, looking around as he closed the door and got two duffel bags out of the trunk. A second later, Dean reappeared, gesturing for her to follow him, and led her to the door to room number 12. Giving him a small smile as he held the door open for her, she entered the room, her eyes sweeping over the room and taking in two beds, a couch, a television, a table, and a couple of weak looking chairs. Dean flicked on the light and Buffy winced, blinking a few times to help her eyesight adjust to the sudden brightness.

"Do you want to take a shower?" Turning her head to the side, she found Sam standing beside her, looking down at her with concern. Tearing her eyes away from his, she looked down at herself, noticing that she was covered from head to toe with dirt, and her hair was matted and dirty, hanging in her face. She slowly nodded, and Sam smiled, gesturing in the direction of the bathroom. "Go ahead, I'll be in a few minutes to give you some clean clothes. Don't worry, I won't look." She forced a small smile and took a step toward the bathroom, only to be called back by Dean.

"I'm going to go get something to eat. You want anything?"

"Yes, please." Her voice was was still quiet and rough from the lack of use, but he seemed to have heard her.

"Want anything specific?" Buffy shook her head, and he nodded before taking the keys from Sam, who had moved to the other side of the room and deposited the duffel bags onto one of the beds, and exited the room, closing the door softly behind him. With one last look at Sam, Buffy walked into the bathroom, closing the door but not locking it. Stepping up to the mirror, she bought a hand to her face, running it down her cheek before tangling it in her hair. Looking into her own eyes, she saw a blank, vacant look and forced herself to turn around, slowly stripping off her long black dress, underwear, and bra. Reaching behind the curtain, she turned on the water, not caring what temperature it was, before stepping into the tub and drawing the curtain closed.

Letting the hot water wash over her body, she let her head drop against the hard tile, feeling all of the emotions she was feeling bubbling to the surface. Dropping to the floor of the tub, she curled into a tiny ball, her eyes filling with tears, unable to stop a loud sob from tumbling from her mouth. All of a sudden, she felt a strong pair of arms wrap around her and pull her out of the tub. Looking up through her tears, she saw that Sam had pulled her into his lap and was holding her against his chest, running his hands over her back and through her still-tangled hair. Letting herself collapse against his muscled chest, she let the tears flow, completely uncaring about her nakedness. The two stayed like that for a while before Buffy's tears tried up and her sobs reduced to soft hiccups. Looking up from the position of her cheek pressed against the blue cotton of his shirt, she gave a shaky laugh, bringing a hand to her eyes to wipe away the tears. Realizing that a man she had met mere hours before was holding her, naked, to him and she was dripping onto his clean, dry clothes, Buffy jerked away, covering herself with her arms.

"I'm sorry, I-..."

"Don't worry about it," he said softly, standing and helping her off of the floor. "I brought you a t-shirt and boxers." He gestured to a small pile of clothing perched on the closed toilet seat. "It's not much, but..."

"Thanks," Buffy said softly, taking a step toward the shower.

"No problem. I'll let you finish your shower." With that, he exited the room, averting his eyes like the gentleman he was, and closed the door softly behind him. Giving a sad smile, Buffy stepped back into the bath, quickly washing the dirt from her body and hair, and untangling her brown locks with her fingers. Turning off the water and stepping out of the tub, she grabbed a fluffy, white towel from the shelf above the toilet, drying herself off before wrapping it around her head to soak up the moisture from her hair. Grabbing the black t-shirt and red boxers from the lid of the toilet, she pulled them on before bending down and flipping her hair over her head, drying it with the towel. Hanging the wet towel over the towel rack, she glanced at herself in the mirror, sadly taking in her pale skin and gaunt features, before opening the door and stepping into the main room.

"Hey." She looked over to see Dean and Sam sitting on one of the beds, Dean holding half a burger and Sam with a fry shoved in his mouth. She gave them both a small smile before walking over and settling herself on the very edge of the empty bed. "Feel better?" asked Dean, handing her a burger and carton of fries, which she took hesitantly after a brief pause.

"Yeah, much." She looked down the food in her hands before once again looking into his beautiful green eyes. "Thanks. For the food."

"Ah, don't mention it," he answered through a mouthful of burger, gesturing for her to make herself comfortable. Giving him a nod in response, she looked back down at the burger and fries but made no move to eat them.

"Let's, uh, get you patched up before you eat that?" She glanced up to see Sam on the other side of the room, digging for something in his duffel bag before he walked over to her with a bottle of antiseptic and a few bandages in his hand. "May I?" He gestured toward her hands, and after her small nod, took her food from her hands and placed it on the nightstand before taking her right hand in his. Soaking a cotton ball in the antiseptic, he started dabbing at her torn knuckles and the cuts on her hands, watching her face for any sort of emotion. Nothing. She didn't even wince. He taped the bandages over her hand, he turned his attention to the other one, giving it the same treatment. "There, all done." He gave her a soft smile that she forced herself to return and dropped the supplies back into his bag before returning to his place on Dean's bed.

Scooting up to the headboard of her own bed, she grabbed the burger off of the nightstand and bit into it, not really tasting it but feeling like she should eat it since he went through all the trouble to get it for her. Finishing her burger after another few bites and quickly polishing off her carton of fries, Buffy leaned back against the headboard, closing her eyes and thinking over the events of the night. She opened her eyes to see Dean staring at her, but he quickly averted his eyes when he realized he had been caught. Letting out a small yawn, she felt her muscles starting to ache from lack of use and the exertion of killing all the hellions. Sam must have noticed her tiredness, as he stood up, gathering up the trash from their meal and tossing it into the trash. Following his movements through heavy-lidded eyes, she watched as he grabbed the comforter and a pillow from Dean's bed, walking over to the couch.

"You don't have to sleep on the couch," said Buffy softly, her head sliding a little further down the headboard in sleepiness. "You can have the bed."

"Nah, it's alright," he said, giving her a smile. "You look like you could use it more than I could." She looked over to see that Dean had kicked off his shoes and socks and had already crawled into bed, kneading the pillow so that it was more comfortable. He looked at her and gave her a half smile before laying his head down on his pillow. Looking back over at Sam, she saw him flick off the light before crawling onto the couch and covering himself with the blanket. Not wanting to move but needing to get under the covers, Buffy stood up, pulling the covers back before slipping between them, snuggling her face into the pillow. "Night Dean, Buffy," she heard Sam call, and then Dean answering in a tired voice.

"Night," she whispered, having to wait only a second before the events of the day and the shock of being brought back from the dead caught up with her and sleep overtook her.

--

Buffy opened an eye to see the sun shining through the window on the other side of the room. Squeezing her eyes shut, her eyes still not used to the harshness of bright lights, she opened them again after a few seconds, blinking a few times as her eyes adjusted. She was lying on her stomach with her face pressed into the pillow, and broadening her senses, heard that the shower was running and that she was the only one in the room. Sitting up and swinging her she jumped when the front door opened and Dean walked in, dressed in a t-shirt and jeans and carrying a few bags and three cups of coffee.

"Morning." He flashed her a bright smile and walked over to her bed, handing her a cup of coffee and dumping the bags onto the foot of her bed. Buffy tilted her head and stared up at him, feeling the hot coffee warm her hands. "I got you some stuff... I didn't know your size, but hopefully it'll do until we can get something else."

"Thanks." She forced a small smile and took a sip of her coffee. It was hot. Black. No cream or sugar. She had never really been a coffee drinker. She swallowed the bitter liquid without really tasting it before placing it on the nightstand and pulling the bags toward her. Looking across the the room, she saw that Dean had sat down at the small table and was typing away on a laptop with what looked like a journal next to him. Opening the bag, she saw a pair of jeans, black tank top, boots, a pair of socks, and simple black underwear. The door to the bathroom opened with a puff of steam, and Sam exited, dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, running a towel through his shaggy hair.

"Oh, hey," said Sam, giving her a smile and taking a cup of coffee from Dean. "Feeling better?"

"Yeah, a little," she said, managing half a smile.

"Dean got you some clothes? That's uncharacteristically nice of him." Dean gave him a look, and Sam rolled his eyes. "Here lemme check your bandages." He walked over, but Buffy's eyes widened and she shook her head. She knew that her wounds would probably already be healed, and she didn't want them to find out about her secret quite yet.

"No, it's fine... I-..."

"Nonsense, c'mere." Sam took her hand gently in his and ripped the bandage off, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion when he took in the state of her cuts and scrapes.

"What the hell?" asked Dean, peering over Sam's shoulder and taking in Buffy's wounds. "They're completely healed!" He grabbed her other hand, sidestepping her attempt to snatch it back, and tore the bandage off. The cuts on that hand were completely healed as well. "What-...?" Sam caught the panic in Buffy's eyes, understanding that she didn't want to talk about it, and gave Dean a look, causing him to stop mid-sentence.

"Why don't you get dressed and we'll get something to eat?" Buffy nodded gratefully, gathering up the shopping bags and practically ran to the bathroom, closing the door softly behind her. She could hear them whispering about her due to her Slayer hearing, but ignored them, instead concentrating on cleaning herself up. Sighing, she started to get dressed, avoiding looking at herself in the mirror, and washed her face before collecting the empty bags and Sam's t-shirt and boxers and exiting the room. "All ready?" Buffy nodded, handing him his clothes, and he took them with a smile.

"Alight, come on, kids," Dean said with what Buffy assumed to be his trademark smirk, and she followed him out the door, getting in the car when he opened the door for her. Sam got in a second later and as soon as he closed the door, Dean started the car and pulled out of the parking lot onto the street. A few minutes later, they pulled into a spot in front of a diner, and Buffy got out of the car after Sam opened her door for her. She smiled at him; clearly he was the more gentlemanly of the two. Entering the diner, Dean eyed the skinny brunette waitress up and down before leading the way to a table by the window while Sam rolled his eyes, and Buffy raised an eyebrow. Sliding into the booth across from Dean and feeling Sam sit down next to her, Buffy opened her mouth to ask a question, but the waitress interrupted her.

"Hey guys," she said, focusing all of her attention on Dean who was giving her a cocky grin. "What can I get for ya?"

"Well," ‒ Dean looked down at her name tag ‒ "Cindy. What's good here?"

"Well, the waffles are pretty good," she said, blushing slightly as he continued to smile at her. Sam looked over at Buffy, but she simply looked down, pretending to study her menu while Dean and the waitress continued to make smalltalk.

"Well, then, I guess I'll take an order of those waffles, then." Buffy looked up to see the waitress writing something down on her little notepad before turning toward Sam.

"What'll it be, hon?"

"Uh..." Sam quickly looked down at his menu. "I'll have the pancakes, please." The girl wrote down his order before turning her attention toward Buffy and giving her a look which Buffy assumed to mean 'you'd better get away from my man, bitch.' Buffy raised an eyebrow at her but looked over at Sam, slightly hesitant to take advantage of their generosity. He gave her a small nod, and she turned back to the waitress.

"I'll have, um, the waffles as well." The girl jotted down her order before giving Dean one last look and walked toward the kitchen, swaying her hips and causing Dean to follow her with his eyes. "So..." she started, the silence making her uncomfortable. "What are you guys doing in Sunnydale?"

"We were, uh..." Sam stuttered, not knowing if he wanted to let the small blond girl into their lives quite yet. However, Dean didn't seem to have any reservations and finished Sam's sentence, after looking around to make sure no one was listening.

"We were actually in town to kill those hellion things that you demolished last night," he gave her a curious look, and Buffy looked down at her hands, slightly panicked by feeling both of their eyes on her.

"I... um..."

"You don't have to tell us anything if you're uncomfortable with it," said Sam, placing a hand on her shoulder and giving her a reassuring smile when she looked up at her. "It's alright."

"No, I-... you guys should know," she said, nervously tucking a long brown strand of hair behind her ear. It seemed like they knew about the things that go bump in the night, and maybe she could use their help. "I'm... I'm the Slayer." Dean continued to stare at her like he had no idea what she was talking about, but Sam's widened and he let out a small gasp.

"Dude, what's wrong with you?" asked Dean, raising an eyebrow at his little brother. Sam was staring at Buffy so intensely that she was fidgeting nervously in her corner of the booth, refusing to look at him. "Dude! Stop staring at her. She looks like she's about to fling herself out of the window to make you stop." Sam snapped out of his daze, looking down and shuffling his hand around in his pockets before pulling out the leather bound journal that Buffy had seen Dean looking at the previous night. "What are you doing?" Sam started to flip through the pages, stopping and jamming his finger down on the page when he found the right one. Buffy looked over at him curiously, unable to read the messy scrawl on the page.

"Dean. The Slayer!" Dean continued to look at him like he was crazy. "Dad mentioned her _several_ times." Still nothing. "Into each generation a Slayer is born, one girl in all the world, a Chosen One, one born..."

"With the strength and skill to hunt the vampires, to stop the spread of their evil blah, blah, blah," Buffy muttered under her breath and looked up when she felt the other two staring at her. "Sorry. Habit." Buffy thought back to the time she had said the same thing to Giles, and she felt a small pang of sadness in her stomach, but quickly pushed it back. Sam nodded and passed the journal to Dean, who looked down at it before being interrupted by the waitress.

"Hey there," she sad, giving him a bright grin. "Waffles..." ‒ he put two plates of waffles down on the table, one in front of Dean and one in front of Buffy ‒ "and pancakes." She dropped a plate of pancakes in front of Sam. "Call me if you need anything else!"

"Oh, we will," said Dean with a grin, and she gave him a wink before walking back to the counter. Done with the journal, he closed it and put it aside before grabbing a knife and fork and digging in to his waffles.

"So yeah. Slayer. That's me," said Buffy softly, starting in on her own meal. She continued picking at the food for a few seconds before forcing down a few bites of waffle.

"So, yesterday," Sam started, popping a piece of bacon into his mouth and turning toward Buffy. "When we... found you. You seemed... terrified of something. Even now you're sort of," **‒**he paused while he tried to think of a nicer phrase than 'completely dead inside' ‒ "quiet." Buffy sighed, she didn't really want to spill her entire life story to two complete strangers in the middle of a run-down diner, but she didn't really see any other options.

"Well, it's kind of a long story."

"We have time," Dean managed around a mouthful scrambled eggs.

"Unless you don't want to tell us," interjected Sam. Dean rolled his eyes. Typical, emotional Sammy.

"No, it's okay." Buffy looked back down at her plate and continued to push her food around, not wanting to break down in front of the two of them. "My little sister, Dawn, turned out not to be my sister. Turns out she was a key to this hell dimension and that these monks had made her into a human to hide her. They made her out of me. My blood. This god... she came after me and my family, trying to get Dawn so that she could unlock the portal to her home dimension." Buffy paused, still not looking at the two, and sighed, taking a moment to compose herself before continuing. "She... took Dawn and opened the portal. The portal... it could only be closed by the blood of the key. She would have to die to close it. Dawn... she had the same blood as me... so..." Sam's eyes widened as he realized what she was getting at, and Dean stopped stuffing his face to listen, his fork halting a couple of inches from his mouth. "And then last night. I woke up six feet under. I got out and... well, you know the rest." She popped a piece of bacon in her mouth, not really tasting it, but knowing that she had to eat to keep her strength up. Slayer metabolism really was a bitch. She had no idea why she was telling all of this to two guys she had known for less than a day, but it was too late to pull back now.

"I-..." Sam started, but stopped, not knowing what to say. This girl had been through so much, and she was younger than either Dean or himself. She gave him a small smile before shoving a spoonful of eggs in her mouth, swallowing them quickly without pausing to chew them.

"So, how'd you guys pick the path of hunters? Doesn't seem like a career a high school guidance counselor would recommend," she asked, not wanting to talk about herself any longer. Dean seemed to take the hint and inhaled the rest of his meal before answering.

"This demon, it killed our mom. Dad started hunting it when we were little, and we've decided to join him in killing the son of a bitch." Buffy raised an eyebrow, slightly surprised at his bluntness.

"I... see."

"Yeah, we're pretty much done with this town since, well, you know. We were going to head out today. You're welcome to join us if you want." He paused. "But you probably have a life to get back to here... Your sister... friends..."

"I'll come," she agreed quickly, surprising both Sam and Dean. She had done a lot of thinking the past night and had come to the conclusion that she couldn't go back to her friends and Dawn. She had fought for her life, and for their lives, for five years, and she couldn't do it anymore. She loved them, but they didn't understand what her calling meant. Sam and Dean seemed to. They had lost their mother to the supernatural, and perhaps their father as well, and even though she had only known them for a short amount of time, she felt a strong bond toward them which was nothing like she had ever felt with her other friends. They had helped as much as they could, but no one had seemed to understand her or her duty like these two did. They would be okay, she reassured herself. They would be fine without her.

"You sure?" Dean asked, looking at her with a raised eyebrow. She nodded. "Alright then, shall we?" He stood up, and walked over to the counter, paying, and apparently getting the girl's phone number by the look on his face, before walking back to the table, tossing a few bills onto a spot not occupied by empty plates. Leading her out to the car, he opened the door for her, allowing her to slide onto the cool leather seats, and shut the door, getting into the car and starting the engine. They quickly made their way back to the motel, Sam and Dean packing up their things, as Buffy had nothing to pack, and returned to the car, piling in and pulling out of the parking lot.

"Guys?" Buffy asked shyly, not sure if she was entitled to ask a favor from the two men that essentially rescued her from the streets. Sam turned around to look at her, and Dean peered at her through the rear view mirror. "If it's not too much trouble... can I check on my friends and my sister before we go? To see if they're alright." Sam's features immediately softened, wondering if she was having second thoughts about leaving with them.

"Yeah, sure," he said, giving her a soft smile. Buffy gave them directions to the Magic Box, and once they arrived, removed her seatbelt and opened the door, resulting in a loud _creak_. Half way out of the car, she leaned back in, causing the two to turn around to see what was wrong.

"Wait here," she ordered softly, and Dean nodded. "I'll only be a second." Slamming the door behind her, Buffy walked up to the light blue building, peering around the corner of the window to get a look inside. As it was the weekend, all of the Scoobies were gathered inside, Xander, Willow, Anya, Tara, and Dawn were seated at the table while Spike lounged against a supporting beam a few feet away, watching them interact, but not participating in the discussion they seemed to be having. Scanning the room, Buffy found no sign of Giles; she sighed, realizing that he had probably gone back to England like he had been planning for a while. Focusing her attention back on the gang, she noticed that they appeared to be laughing at a joke Xander had told. Spike was the only one not laughing; he was the saddest that Buffy had ever seen him, even sadder than when Dru broke his heart. She felt a wave of emotion wash over her; it seemed as if he had loved her more than he had loved his beloved Drusilla. Pushing those thoughts to the back of her mind and looking over at Dawn, she smiled sadly. She was reluctant to leave her little sister, but she needed to go. She couldn't do it anymore. However, looking away from Dawn, she saw Spike jerk his head up in confusion before looking straight at her, his eyes widening in shock at what he was seeing. Letting loose a small gasp, Buffy threw herself away from the widow, but it was too late. He had seen her. As she started to back away, Spike's face appeared at the window, and she panicked and sprinted toward the car.

"Buffy! Buffy!" She ran as fast as she could to the black Impala, skidding to a stop and wrenching open the door, diving in head first. "Buffy! Wait!" She slammed the door and looked toward the shop through the back windshield, seeing that he had tried to run out the door but was stopped by the fact that it was day. "Bloody hell! Buffy!"

"Go!" she yelled at Dean, clearly panicked, and Dean stepped on the gas, sending the car speeding down the street. Glancing back once more, she saw that Spike was attempting to chase after her, lunging out of the doorway several times before the burns from the sun forced him back inside, and she leaned her head back against the smooth black leather, closing her eyes and letting out a long sigh, ignoring the curious and confused look that Sam was sending her way.

--

Well guys, that's the end of the second chapter! Hope y'all liked it as much as the first one! If you like it, drop me a review to give me encouragement. If you didn't, drop me a review to provide some constructive criticism! Either way, any feedback is greatly appreciated!

I'll try to get the next chapter up as soon as possible! Hopefully before the end of Winter Break so that you don't have to wait that long:)

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	3. Bloody Mary Part 1

A little fic in response to the "Recently Resurrected Buffy Jumps Dean" challenge by winchesters girl at tthfanfic. Thanks for the idea, it's a really fun plot bunny!

Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, own neither Buffy or Supernatural. They both belong to their respective geniuses, Joss and Kripke. I'm just borrowing them for a while for my own entertainment. If the boys were mine, lemme tell ya, they wouldn't be traveling the country fighting stuff. I'd find a few uses for them in my own house... Heh, j/k (but not really). This episode is pretty word for word from the Supernatural episode "Bloody Mary." Transcripts taken from twiztv.

I am SO SO SO SO SO sorry that it took so long to update this. I've had part of the chapter floating around on my computer for a while, but I just haven't gotten around to finishing it. I still haven't, this is only HALF OF THE EPISODE, but I figured the episode was way too long for 1 chapter as this is already 9 pages, and I wanted to post this so you guys wouldn't think that I forgot about this story!

Thanks to John cena punk princess, cloudleonsgurl, kez92p9, Supernatural GilmoreGirls, Christina, and buffy1 for your wonderful reviews! Again, so sorry for taking this long! I hope you guys are still interested in this!

Anways, enough jabbering, on with the story...

-------------------------------------

"Noooo!" Buffy jerked awake at the sound of a loud scream, smacking her head against the window of the Impala in the process. Blinking a few times to clear her vision, she muttered a few choice words before looking around for the source of the scream.

"Sam! Wake up!" Seeing that it was Sam that had yelled, she brought a hand up to her head to check for damages and watched as Dean shook his brother a few times in an attempt to wake him up. He glanced back into the back seat, giving her a concerned frown. Apparently he had heard the loud clunk her forehead had made against the glass. "You alright?"

"Yeah, fine," she answered, bringing her hand back down to her lap when she didn't find any permanent damage. Seeing that she was alright, Dean turned his attention back to Sam.

"Dude! Wake up!" Finally Sam opened his eyes and sat up, looking around in confusion as he wondered where he was.

"I take it I was having a nightmare." Buffy looked out the window, barely listening to their conversation, and saw that they were parked in front of a tall building.

In the past couple of weeks, she and the boys had settled into a comfortable routine. They traveled to a new town every few days, Sam and Dean taking turns driving while Buffy and the other slept. Dean didn't trust her enough to drive his car and rightfully so. There were no doubts in her mind that she would crash the thing the second she set foot in the driver's seat. They would camp out in some crappy motel paid for either by one of their numerous credit cards or money Dean had made scamming some poor guy at poker, destroying any evil thing in their path and bar hopping on the nights that they didn't have a job. Buffy had settled into her new life easily, still feeling after the aftereffects of being ripped from heaven but receiving an amazing amount of support from both of the boys. They seemed to know what she was going through, even though neither of them had died and been sent to heaven, and Buffy felt more comfortable with them than she had ever felt with her Sunnydale friends. Like her, they had felt the pain of loosing someone they loved, as well as their own lives, metaphorically in their case, to the job. She wasn't quite back to her usual self yet, but she was getting closer and closer each day.

"Yeah, another one," answered Dean, ruffling Sam's hair, causing the younger man to swat his brother's hand away. Tears prickled the corners Buffy's eyes as she watched them, images of Dawn flooding her mind. They were so close, just like her and Dawn had been. But the Powers that Be had offered her a new life, a fresh start, and she had taken it. She quickly wiped away her tears, not wanting the boys to see her crying. Sam would push, and Dean would become extremely uncomfortable, both things causing her to close off and shut down. It had only taken her a few days to learned that the Winchesters dealt with their feelings but not discussing them and pushing them to the back of their minds, and she trained herself to do the same. It wasn't all that hard for her; she had never been the sharing type anyways.

"Hey, at least I got some sleep," Sam countered, bringing a hand to his face to rub the sleep out of his eyes. Dean stayed silent for a second, watching him warily, before opening his mouth to respond. Neither of them noticed how hard Buffy was fighting to control her inner demons, and she was glad for that small fact.

"You know, sooner or later we're gonna have to talk about this." Sam ignored him, sitting up a bit straighter and stretching out his legs, quickly diverting the discussion away from himself.

"Are we here?" Dan gave him an exasperated look before quickly covering it up and nodding. Buffy looked back out the window, seeing that the building was a morgue. Sighing, she tilted her head to the side, resulting in a small _pop_ as her neck cracked, and tilted it to the other side, closing her eyes and smiling in pleasure as the tension left her body.

"Yup, welcome to Toldeo, Ohio." Looking back into the front seat, she saw that Sam was staring at some article from some local newspaper, and Dean was looking out the windshield, humming softly and tapping his hand against the steering wheel.

"So what do you think really happened to him?" Buffy looked over Sam's shoulder, seeing that the article was about a Steven Shoemaker, a forty-six year old male who died suddenly a few days ago.

"That's what we're gonna find out. You wanna stay here?" Dean asked her, and she nodded. She usually didn't participate when the boys did their digging. She wasn't the brains of the operation, she was the muscle. It had always been like that, even back in Sunnydale, and she was perfectly fine with it.

"Yeah sure, you guys go ahead." Dean gave her a nod of his own, getting out of the car and locking the door before slamming it shut with a loud creak. Sam turned in his seat so that he could look at her, giving her a concerned look that she playfully rolled her eyes too.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm fine! Now go!" She gave his arm a little nudge, and he opened the door, pivoting his his seat and placing two feet on the ground.

"We shouldn't be that long." With that, he locked and slammed his door and followed Dean into the plain, concrete building, leaving Buffy alone in the car, smiling at his concern. That kid worried way too much. She continued to sit curled up in the car for another few minutes before starting to fidget, needing to get out of the small space. Deciding to take a walk and assess the town, she pulled her legs out from under her and opened the door of the Impala, making sure to lock the door before closing it. Looking up and down the street, she noticed a small coffee shop on the corner and made her way over to it, a small bell jingling as she opened the door and stepped inside. The place was pretty deserted but that was to be expected. It was two p.m. on a Wednesday after all. Buffy walked up to the counter where a pretty brunette was rearranging muffins in the display case, smiling at the girl once she got her attention.

"Hi."

"Good afternoon, miss. What would you like?" the girl asked politely, walking over to the cash register looking at Buffy expectantly. Buffy cocked an eyebrow at the fact that she had called her miss, but she quickly let it go.

"Just a medium coffee, please. Black." Annie, the girl's name according to her name tag, pressed a few buttons on the cash register before telling Buffy how much she owed, and the blond dug her wallet out of the back pocket of her jeans, pulling out a couple of dollars. Taking her change with a smile, she waited as the barista poured her drink, slipping it into one of those heat-protective sleeves before exiting the small shop and sitting down at a table outside. Leaning back against the uncomfortable back of the metal chair, she crossed her legs, taking a sip of her drink, closing her eyes as she felt the energy from the caffeine rush through her body. She had never liked coffee. It made her jittery. But for some reason, since she had come back, she found that it was the only thing that could calm her nerves and ease her anxiety. Squinting slightly as a result of the bright sun, she looked up and down the street, observing the fact that there was barely anyone out and around. A few minutes later, she was half way through her cup of coffee, and her phone, a gift from Sam and Dean, rang, the shrill ringtone almost making her drop her cup in surprise. Quickly placing the cup down on the table, she fished it out of her pocket, flipping it open after seeing the front screen flash "Dean."

"Hello?" She cradled the phone between her ear and her shoulder, bringing one hand up to shield her eyes from the sun, the other once again reaching for her coffee cup.

"Where the hell are you?" She could hear the panic in his voice, and she frowned, wondering what he was all worked up about.

"Chill, I'm at the coffee shop across the street." Looking down the street and seeing him and Sam standing by the Impala, she gave a pointed wave, seeing Dean visibly relax once he caught sight of them. Hanging up the phone, she shoved it back into her pocket and dropped the now-empty cup into the trash before jaywalking across the street and stopping next to them. "What's wrong?"

"You shouldn't go wandering off like that!" He scolded her, gesturing emphatically while Sam stared at him strangely. "Last time you did, you almost got killed by a pack of vampires!"

"Woah!" she said, holding up her hands in a gesture of surrender, surprised by his apparent worry for her. "First, it's day. I doubt any vampires would risk dying a fiery death just to get a bite of tasty little me. Second, Vampire Slayer." She pointed to herself before letting her arm drop back to her side. "Last time I wandered off and 'almost got killed' by a pack of vamps, I kicked and staked all of their asses in a matter of seconds."

"Oh. Right," he said, looking defeated, but he quickly recovered. "So this guy's death. Definitely something supernatural." Dean walked past her and got into the driver's seat of the car, and Buffy and Sam followed suit, Buffy taking the front seat and Sam managing to squish his mile-long legs into the back seat.

"And?" she asked, waiting for one of them to elaborate.

"The guy had no eyes," Sam answered, as Dean was busy starting up the Impala and pulling out of the parking space and onto the road.

"No... eyes...?" she asked, pivoting in her seat, a task quite difficult as she had her seatbelt on, so that she could look at Sam. "Like no... eyes?" She frowned, annoyed that she couldn't put her confusion into words. Apparently he understood her, though, as he nodded.

"Yeah. Liquefied. Like they exploded or something." Buffy made a face, picturing what that must have looked like, and turned back so that she was facing toward the windshield.

"Ew. So didn't need to know that." She heard Sam chuckle behind her and gave him a small smile in response. "So, where are we going?"

"Gonna go talk to the daughter," Dean piped up, turning toward her. "She was the one that found him." Buffy nodded, and he took that as a signal that they were done talking, turning up the radio and tapping his hands against the steering wheel as they drove toward the Shoemaker's house. About fifteen minutes later, they arrived in front of a normal-looking beige colored house. One of those typical cookie-cutter gated community houses. Dean pulled up in front of it and killed the engine, getting out of the car with a _squeak_ of the doors. Buffy opened her own door and got out, her boots clicking on the pavement as she walked over to where Dean was standing. "You coming then?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow, and Buffy nodded. She made it a point to accompany the brothers when visiting the families of victims; for some reason, after she came back from heaven, she found it easier to work a case if she knew a bit more about their lives.

"Yeah, I'm coming." With that, she lead them up the pathway and into the open door of the house, stopping when she was greeted by a large crowd in the front hall and sitting room. Everyone was dressed in black suits or dresses, and Dean smirked, nodding his head in their direction before looking down at his own ensemble of jeans, a black t-shirt, and a brown leather jacket.

"Feel like we're underdressed." Rolling her eyes, Buffy ignored him, stopping and turning back to them and whispering so that no one else could hear her.

"I'm gonna go make sure the upstairs is clear. You guys go talk to the daughter." Not waiting for their responses, she skirted past the doorway to the front room and up the stairs, quickly making her way to the bathroom so as not to be seen and questioned about why she was there. Pushing the door open, she immediately noticed the dried blood on the white-tiled floor and kneeled in an attempt to get a better look at it. It was mostly cleaned up, but a bit of residue blood still clung to the otherwise pristine tile. Standing up and looking around the room, she saw no signs of struggle and frowned, spinning around when she heard two sets of footsteps climbing the stairs. Making sure that she was hidden in the bathroom, she peeked her head around the door frame, sighing in relief when she saw that it was Sam and Dean. "What'd you find out?"

"Youngest daughter said that it was her fault," Sam answered as he and Dean joined her in the bathroom, and he stooped to the floor to touch the dried blood. Buffy made a face at this, and Dean smirked at her disgust. But I mean really. Who goes around sticking their fingers into other people's blood? "That she said Bloody Mary three times into the bathroom mirror."

"Bloody Mary?" Buffy asked, brow furrowing in confusion. "Is that even real? I mean, I played it all the time as a kid, and nothing ever happened to me. Or the thousands of other kids that played it."

"I don't know." Sam shrugged and stood back up, watching as Dean inspected the medicine cabinet. "Did Dad ever find any evidence that it was a real thing?" Dean shrugged and continued to look the cabinet over.

"Not that I know of. Maybe everywhere it's just a story but here it's actually happening." He opened the cabinet and started to riffle through its contents.

"You mean this is where the legend originated?" Buffy attempted to clarify, but once again, Dean Dean simply shrugged.

"But according to the legend, the person who says-..." Sam trailed off, looking at the medicine cabinet mirror which was now pointed toward him and shutting it, realizing that they had already said Bloody Mary twice. "The person who says you know what gets it. But here-..."

"Shoemaker gets it instead, yeah," Dean interrupted, and Sam gave him an annoyed look, but he simply ignored it. Still listening but not really having anything to contribute to the conversation, Buffy walked over to the mirror, frowning when her Slayer senses started to act up. The two continued talking to each other, but she ignored them, instead focusing on the supernatural signal the mirror was giving off.

"There's something here..." she muttered, catching their attention and feeling them walk up behind her. "But it's faint... Like... left over magical residue or something..." However, she wasn't able to elaborate, as a set of footsteps echoed though the hallway, making her head snap to the door. Giving Sam and Dean a slightly panicked look, she quickly exited the bathroom,not wanting to get caught snooping around the scene. Just as she stepped out of the bathroom, a pretty blond girl dressed in a black dress rounded the corner and pinned her with an accusing look.

"What are you doing up here?" she asked, her eyes flitting to Dean, Sam, and back to Buffy. Oh crap, they were in trouble now.

"We... We had to go to the bathroom." It took all of Buffy's willpower to keep her from rolling her eyes. Worst. Excuse. Ever. The girl didn't seem to buy it either and crossed her arms over her chest, pinning him with a look.

"Who are you?"

"Like we said downstairs, we worked with Donna's dad," Dean answered, giving her one of his charming smiles, clearly hoping that it would make her stop asking questions. It didn't work.

"He was a day trader or something, he worked by himself." Buffy watched out of the corner of her eye as Dean's smile faltered slightly.

"No, I know, I meant-..." The girl cut him off and looked straight at Buffy, causing her to stand up a little taller at the hint of the disdain in her voice.

"And who's she?" A witty retort to the girl's obvious dislike for her formed in her brain and was almost out of her mouth, but Sam jumped in, obviously having sensed Buffy's annoyance.

"This is Buffy. She's a friend of ours," said Sam, stepping forward and placing a hand on the small of her back, telling her to calm down. Buffy's jaw clenched at the girl's continued examination of her, but she forced herself to keep her mouth shut.

"And all those weird questions downstairs, what was that?" She removed her brown eyes from Buffy's green ones and back to Dean, uncrossing her arms and placing them on her hips, clearly frustrated that she wasn't getting any answers. "So you tell me what's going on or I start screaming."

"Alright, alright!" answered Sam, removing his hands from Buffy's back and holding them up in front of him in a gesture of surrender. "We think something happened to Donna's dad."

"Yeah, a stroke," the girl answered, giving him a 'duh' look. Sam opened his mouth to respond, but this time Buffy was quicker.

"Exploding eyeballs aren't usually a sign of a stroke." The girl's eyes widened in surprise at this, and Buffy could practically feel Dean rolling his eyes behind her. "We think it's something else."

"Like what?" she asked, tilting her head to the side in confusion. Buffy sighed and shook her head, wishing she had a better answer than the one she was about to give.

"We don't really know yet."

"But we don't want it to happen to anyone else," said Sam, jumping in and giving the girl his patented kicked puppy eyes. The corner of Buffy's mouth twitched in amusement, knowing that the girl wouldn't be able to argue with them after that, but quickly schooled her features back into a black stare. "And that's the truth."

"So, if you're gonna scream, go right ahead," Dean added, and the girl hesitated, seemingly wanting to give them the benefit of the doubt.

"Who are you, cops?" she finally asked, and Buffy gave her a small smile and a nod.

"Kind of."

"I'll tell you what. Here." Sam walked over to her, shoving his hand into his jacket pocket and pulling out a pen and a small scrap of paper. Uncapping the pen, he quickly scrawled his cell phone number onto the piece of paper and handed it to her, returning to Buffy's side when he was done. "If you think of anything, you or your friends notice anything strange... out of the ordinary... just give us a call." Without another word, he placed a hand on Buffy's back and lead her past the girl, down the stairs, and out of the house toward the Impala, Dean trailing along behind them. Reaching the car, he opened the door for her and waited for her to get in before closing it.

"See, that's why I don't do this recon stuff," she muttered when the other two got into the front seat, and Dean started her up. "Too many people asking questions." He pulled out of the parking space and fifteen minutes later, they were parked in front of the town's public library. After the they pulled to a stop, Buffy got out of the car and slammed the door with a _creak_, looked up at the large stone building in front of her, and made a face. Research had never been her thing.

"C'mon," Dean called, and she followed the two brothers up the steps and into the library, looking around at the stacks of book with mild disgust. "Sat Bloody Mary really is haunting this town. There's gonna be some sort of proof... Like a local woman who died nasty." She gave him a look at his bluntness, but he merely shot her his trademark grin and made his way deeper into the room.

"Yeah, but a legend this widespread is hard," said Sam, instantly slipping into geek mode and earning a raised eyebrow from Dean and an amused smile from Buffy. He chose to ignore them and continued. "I mean, there's like fifty versions of who she actually is. One story says she's a witch, another says she's a mutilated bride. There's a lot more." Buffy let out a frustrated groan, helplessly looking around the book-filled room.

"Great," she muttered, and Sam gave her a sympathetic look, knowing that she wasn't one for research. "So where do we start?"

"Every version's got a few things in common." Dean broke away from them, stopping to check out the hot librarian. Sam didn't seem to notice, but Buffy did, and she rolled her eyes before focusing her attention back on a still-talking Sam. "It's always a woman named Mary. And she always dies right in front of a mirror. So we've gotta search local newspapers... public records as far back as they go. See if we can find a Mary who fits the bill." She groaned again.

"Well, that sounds like craploads of fun."

"No, it won't be so bad, as long as we..." He turned around and noticed that every computer had a sign saying 'Out of Order' taped to it. He gave a grown of his own before letting out a dry chuckle and turning back to her. "I take it back. This will be very annoying." He paused for a second, looking around. "Hey, where's Dean?" Buffy cocked her thumb in the direction of where the pretty redheaded librarian was flirting shamelessly with his older brother, and Sam let out an exasperated sigh. Stalking over to him, he grabbed Dean's elbow and dragged him away, eliciting a surprised and annoyed yell from the older man. "Dean. Research. Now."

"Alright, alright!" he responded, tucking a piece of paper that contained the woman's phone number into the front pocket of his jeans. "Can't blame a guy for wanting to have a bit of fun."

"Find whatever you can about Mary and meet me back here in half an hour," Sam instructed, and Dean and Buffy both nodded, breaking away from the group and each heading to a different section of a library. Thirty minutes of mind-numbing research later, a half-asleep Buffy stumbled out of the stacks with her arms full of books and collapsed on the table, burying her head in her arms to wait for Sam and Dean.

"Hey, Princess. You doing alright?" Buffy groaned at the familiar voice and looked through a gap in her arms, seeing Dean hovering above her with an armful of books and newspapers and a smirk on his face.

"I hate research," she muttered, and leaned back in her chair, watching warily as Sam walked over to them with his own armful of books. "We ready?"

"Yeah," Sam nodded, walking over to the check-out counter and gesturing for Buffy and Dean to do the same. After checking out all of their books and watching Dean flirt shamelessly with the librarian, Buffy led the way out of the library and onto the street, dumping her armload of books into the trunk before getting into the car. The drive was made in bored, tired silence, the only sound being that of Blue Oyster Cult reverberating through the car. A few minutes later, they pulled into the parking lot of the motel they were staying and they all got out of the car, grabbing the books and newspapers before heading inside. It was already starting to get dark. The second he got inside, Dean peeled off his coat and toed off his shoes, dropping into a chair by the window and pulling one of the books toward him. Sam pulled off his own coat and flopped back onto the bed, making no move to pick up a book. Thinking along the same lines as Sam, Buffy shucked off her jacket and curled up on the bed next to Sam, staring out the window at the setting sun for a few minutes before sighing and grabbing a handful of newspapers. The three continued to research, combing through newspapers and idly flipping through books, and finding absolutely nothing until the clock on the nightstand by the bed read eight o'clock. Buffy's stomach growled, her Slayer metabolism demanding food, and Dean smirked amusedly at her, Buffy giving him a smirk of her own when his growled as well.

"Can we take a break?" she asked, slamming the book she was looking at closed and dropping it onto the bed next to her. "There's nothing here. Absolutely nothing." Frustrated, she leaned back on the bed, watching as Sam and Dean gave up on their own books.

"Yeah, might as well," agreed Dean, running a hand through his short hair. "It's getting late. Lets go have a bit of fun." He turned to Sam. "Up for it, Sammy?"

"Yeah, alright," the brunette mumbled, grabbing his jacket and following Buffy and Dean out of the small hotel room and into the bar a few buildings over.

"I just want some food and a beer," Buffy stated, dropping into a booth and leaning back as Sam and Dean slid in across from her. "None of the hard stuff."

"Alright," Dean agreed, looking around the crowded bar and gesturing for a busty, scantily-clad waitress to come over and take their order.

Her plan lasted just until the the first shot of tequila hit the back of her throat and burned its way to her stomach. Two hours and three-quarters of a bottle of Jose Cuervo later, they were all back in the room. Sam was passed out cold on his bed, and Buffy was flat on her back on the other one with Dean buried to the hilt inside of her, licking and sucking at her neck and making her moan in pleasure. A few more thrusts sent them both over the edge, and she dug her fingernails into his back and wrapped her legs tighter around his waist, letting out a muffled scream as his lips possessively claimed hers. After that, she lay exhausted and panting on the crumpled white sheets, Dean's arm wrapped around her and his face buried in her neck, willingly succumbing into the blackness that threatened to overtake her.

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Well there we go. That's it for now. A teensey tiny bit of Buffy/Dean, but more to come in later chapters. I should have the second part up and running soon! Drop me a review on your way out! Love it or hate it, let me know!


	4. Bloody Mary Part 2

A little fic in response to the "Recently Resurrected Buffy Jumps Dean" challenge by winchesters girl at tthfanfic. Thanks for the idea, it's a really fun plot bunny!

Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, own neither Buffy or Supernatural. They both belong to their respective geniuses, Joss and Kripke. I'm just borrowing them for a while for my own entertainment. If the boys were mine, lemme tell ya, they wouldn't be traveling the country fighting stuff. I'd find a few uses for them in my own house... Heh, j/k (but not really). This episode is pretty word for word from the Supernatural episode "Bloody Mary." Transcripts taken from twiztv.

Thanks SO MUCH to La fin du monde, dhfreak06, cursed, DrummerGirl76, sabryna, Kriti, Oliverzgirl, porcupineapple, and ZoiAstrea for your wonderful reviews! I'm glad you still read it even though it took me SO LONG to update this freaking thing!

The next morning, Buffy woke up without any of the usual consequences of too much to drink. Thanking The Powers that Be for her Slayer healing, she noticed a soft snoring in her ear and rolled onto her back, a small smile appearing on her face when she saw Dean fast asleep next to her. She had often shared a bed with Dean, as well as several times with Sam, but they had never woken up like this, with Dean's arm curled around her waist and his forehead pressed up against her cheek. They had always woken up on the opposite sides of the bed, hardly touching each other, each remaining in his or her personal space bubble. Right away, she knew that their whole dynamic had changed. Old Buffy would be comparing this situation to her previous experiences with Parker or Angel and formulating a plan to get out before she got hurt. However, new Buffy was completely different. All she could think about was how beautiful Dean looked, the sheet slung low across his hips and his handsome features illuminated by a stray ray of sunlight that shone through the curtains, and how she felt _alive_ when he was touching her, kissing her, whispering things in her ear that she had only read about in dirty magazines. Whatever worked. Anything to fill the void left inside of her at being ripped from heaven and thrust into a world that she never thought she'd never again have to be part of.

Quietly slipping out from under his arm, she tiptoed to the bathroom and took a long shower, enjoying of the feeling of the hot water running over her skin, washing away any signs of her and Dean's escapades. Getting out of the shower and towel drying her hair, Buffy made her way back into the bedroom, seeing that the boys were still asleep, pulling on a pair of jeans and a simple black t-shirt before setting a couple of aspirin and two glasses of water on the nightstand, knowing that they would need it when the woke up. Slipping the room key into her pocket, she exited the motel room, smiling serenely as she closed the door behind her, feeling the heat from the sun warm her back. Wanting to spend a bit of time on her own, she casually strolled down the street to a small coffee shop and ordered three cups, quickly paying the woman at the counter and sitting outside until it was ready. About half an hour later, she reentered the motel room, seeing that a now dressed and awake Dean was once again sitting at the small table by the window and flipping absently through a book they had procured from the library.

"Hey," Buffy greeted, handing him a cup of steaming hot coffee and giving him a smile when he thanked her. Looking across the room at the nightstand, she saw that two of the pills she had set out were missing. "Feeling alright?"

"Yeah, fine, thanks for the aspirin and coffee. Sure as hell needed it after all that shit we drank last night." He shook his head and winced, bringing a hand up to rub at his left temple. "You don't seem too affected by it." Buffy shrugged, placing Sam's coffee on the table and taking a swig of her own.

"Slayer healing, you know the drill."

"Lucky bitch," he teased, causing her to grin and roll her eyes at him. He made no move to discuss what had happened the previous night, and neither did Buffy. No sense in opening that can of worms. If he didn't remember it, then fine. Business as usual.

"No! Jessica!" Buffy almost dropped her cup at Sam's yell, and she looked over to see him lying on his back on the bed and clutching his head in pain. Picking up Sam's coffee and depositing hers in its place, she walked over to him, pressing it into his hand along with the aspirin, deciding not to mention his little outburst. He took them with a grateful half-smile and swallowed the pills, taking a sip of coffee to force them down his throat.

"Why'd you let me fall asleep?" The question was directed at Dean, so Buffy walked over to her and Dean's bed, kicking off her shoes and falling back onto it.

"We didn't _let_ you do anything," Dean answered without looking up from his book. "You passed out the second we got back." There was a pause as he finished up the page he was on and Sam took a few more sips from his cup. "So what'd you dream about?"

"Lollipops and candy canes," Sam joked dryly, but he was doing an extremely poor job at covering up his shock at the nightmare, and Buffy and Dean both saw right through it. Feeling that it was none of her business, Buffy crossed her arms under her head and continued to stare up at the ceiling. Apparently Dean didn't see the good in pushing the issue either.

"Yeah, sure."

"So, you find out anything?" asked Buffy, wanting to get as far away from the awkward situation as possible. If Sam remembered anything about the previous night's activities, he didn't say anything, and Buffy was extremely relieved. They already had enough to deal with without throwing that into the mix.

"Oh, besides a whole new level of frustration?" Dean asked, sighing. "No. We've looked at everything. A few local women, a Laura and a Catherine committed suicide in front of a mirror, and a giant mirror fell on a guy named Dave, but uh, no Mary." Sam gave a frustrated groan and flopped back onto the bed after dropping his now empty cup onto the nightstand.

"Maybe we haven't found it yet," said Sam, always the optimist.

"Maybe," Buffy muttered, sitting up and grabbing her coffee off of the table, effectively draining it in a few sips.

"I've also been searching for strange deaths in the area," Dean informed them, still flipping through the book. "You know, eyeball bleeding. That kind of thing. There's nothing. Whatever's happening here, maybe it just ain't Mary." Suddenly, Sam's shrill ringtone filled the room, causing him to shoot up out of bed, cursing as his head continued to throb. Grabbing his cell phone off of the nightstand, Buffy tossed it to him, tilting her head to the side in curiosity.

"Hello?" There were a few moments of silence as a woman's voice carried over the line. She clearly sounded upset and was crying almost hysterically. "Charlie? Calm down. Yeah. It's going to be fine. We'll be there as soon as we can."

"What happened," asked Dean, having abandoned the book on his lap in favor of the phone call.

"Charlie. Something's happened. We have to go." Sam got dressed as fast as he could with his head pounding and nausea constricting his chest, and a few minutes later, they were in the Impala speeding toward a park that Charlie had mentioned. As soon as the car pulled to a stop, Buffy spotted the blond girl and hopped out of the car, rushing over to her.

"Are you okay?" she asked the younger girl, sitting down on the bench next to her and giving her a concerned look. "What happened?" Sam and Dean appeared, Dean sitting down next to Buffy and Sam choosing to stand in front of them.

"It's Jill..." Charlie started, but quickly dissolved into a fit of sobs. Despite her earlier annoyance with the girl, Buffy felt a stab of sympathy for her and scooched closer, enveloping the blond in a hug and rubbing her back until her sobs subsided.

"Shh, it's okay," she soothed, letting Charlie go as soon as she composed herself but keeping her arm draped around the other girl's shoulder. "Can you tell us what happened?" The girl nodded, giving her a grateful smile, before continuing.

"They found her on the bathroom floor." Her voice was soft, almost a whisper, and even with her Slayer hearing, Buffy had to strain to make out what she was saying. "And her... her eyes." The blond brought her hand to her face to absently run her finger across her closed eyelid. "They were gone."

"I'm sorry," said Sam, his features rearranging into a sympathetic look.

"And she said it." Buffy, Dean, and Sam all exchanged glances before returning their attention to the grieving girl. "I heard her say it." There was a pause as she took a couple of seconds to compose herself. "But it couldn't be because of that." She looked straight in Buffy's eyes, silently begging her to tell her that she was crazy. "I'm insane, right?"

"No, sweetheart, you're not insane," Buffy replied hesitantly, bringing a hand to Charlie's cheek to wipe away a stray tear. She inwardly cocked an eyebrow at her use of the word 'sweetheart,' but she quickly waved it off. It must be the motherly instinct she had adopted since she was forced to take care of Dawn after their mother died.

"Oh God, that makes it so much worse." Buffy looked up at Sam helplessly, urging for him to do something. To make this girl's pain go away.

"Look," he said softly, kneeling down next to her so that they were eye to eye. "We think something's happening here. Something that can't be explained."

"And we're gonna stop it," Dean piped up, causing three heads, two blond and one brunette, to turn toward him. "But we could use your help."

"Anything." Buffy watched as Dean and Sam got to their feet, doing the same and leading Charlie over to the Impala. They all got into the car, Sam and Dean in the front and Buffy and Charlie in the back, and less than five minutes later, they pulled up in front of a simple gray house with white trim. "I'll go in first and then let you guys in," Charlie said as they all got out of the car, slamming the doors with four identical _creaks_. "That room right there." She pointed to a window on the second story, the first one on the right. Buffy nodded and pushed her gently toward the house, leaning back against the door of the car and watching as the boys got a few supplies from their trunk.

"Ready?" she asked as they stuffed the supplies into their pockets and slammed the trunk shut.

"Let's do it." Buffy led the way, effortlessly scaling the wall and hopping up onto the roof, quickly peering into Jill's bedroom window to make sure that the coast was clear. Not seeing anyone, she grabbed Dean's arm, helping him up, before pulling back and waiting for him to help Sam. Resuming her position at the window, Buffy watched as Charlie entered the room and quietly shut the door, flicking on the lights before crossing to the window and letting them in.

"Thanks," said Buffy, climbing through the window and straightening up, walking around the room and looking at all the pictures and knick knacks in curiosity.

"What'd you tell Jill's mom?" asked Sam, giving Dean a grateful smile as he helped him through the window.

"Just that I needed some time alone with Jill's pictures and things." Looking at Charlie, Buffy felt another stab of sympathy, and her heart went out for the girl. She looked so scared, so hopeful that they would be able to find out what had happened to her best friend. That would be able to make everything better. "I hate lying to her."

"Trust us, this is for the greater good." He quickly closed the window and pulled the curtains closed, gesturing toward the light switch on the opposite side of the room. "Hit the lights." Crossing the small room in a couple of strides, Buffy flipped the switch, plunging the room into semi-darkness. Blinking a few times to help her vision adjust, she could just barely see Sam taking a small, hand-held video camera out of his pocket and switching it on.

"What are you guys looking for?" asked Charlie, watching them curiously as Buffy circled the room, pressing her hands against the walls in search of supernatural energy, while Sam and Dean stood in the middle of the room trying to figure out the camera.

"We'll let you know as soon as we find it," Dean answered, and Buffy sighed, slightly frustrated that they didn't even know what they were looking for.

"Hey, night vision." Dean walked over to his brother and pressed a button on the camera. It seemed to do the trick. "Perfect." Seeing that the camera was pointed at him, Dean gave it a sexy look before smirking.

"Do I look like Paris Hilton?"

"Baby, Paris has nothing on you," quipped Buffy, causing Sam to chuckle and Dean to send her one of his award winning grins. Not finding anything in this room, Buffy made her way to the bathroom, stopping at the mirror.

"So I don't get it," she heard Sam call from the other room. Ignoring him, she ran her palms across the spotless mirror, getting the same feeling that she did when she examined the Shoemaker's mirror. "I mean, the first victim didn't summon Mary, and the second victim did. How's she choosing them?"

"Beats me," muttered Dean, and Buffy walked over to the doorway, poking her head into the bedroom.

"Hey, guys, there's something here." Disappearing back into the bathroom, she waited until the other three were in the room before continuing. "That same magical residue thing that I found at the Shoemaker place. Take a look." Sam walked over to the mirror and turned the camera on it, Buffy standing on her tip toes to look over his shoulder. It wasn't easy, as he was about ten feet tall. "What's that?" she asked, pointing at a trickle of some unknown substance running out from behind the mirror.

"I have no idea. Here, take this." Thankfully, he didn't stick his finger in it this time and merely handed Buffy the camera and ushered her back into the bedroom. Sam then removed the mirror from the wall behind the sink and carried into the other room, gently placing it down on the bed face down.

"How did you know that there was something there?" asked Charlie, tilting her head and looking at Buffy curiously.

"The boys aren't the only ones that have a few tricks up their sleeves," the Slayer answered with a smile, holding her hand out behind her expectantly. "Black light." Dean pulled it from his back pocket and tossed it at her, and Buffy easily caught it without even looking at it before switching it on and holding it over the mirror. "See that?" She continued to move the black light over the back of the mirror, revealing a dripping handprint and the words 'Gary Bryman.' It looked to be written with someone's finger, much like a child writing their name with finger paint.

"Gary Bryman?" read Charlie, her brow furrowing in confusion.

"You know who that is?" asked Sam, but she merely shook her head.

"No." Buffy frowned, wondering what it could mean, and followed Dean, and Sam out of the window and back to the car while Charlie said goodbye to Jill's mom. Fifteen minutes later, Buffy, Charlie, and Dean were sitting outside the small town's public library waiting for Sam to finish up his research.

"You're absolutely sure Jill never mentioned a Gary Bryman?" Buffy pressed gently, but one again, Charlie shook her head.

"Never. I've never heard of him before." Buffy jerked when she felt something touch her hair, but it was only Dean, and Buffy smiled as he picked a stray leaf out of her blond locks before flicking it to the ground.

"Damn... That doesn't really help us too much." The three sat in silence for a few minutes before Sam walked up to them, clutching a small piece of paper in his hand. "Hey, what's the what?"

"So, Gary Bryman was an eight-year-old boy," he informed them, handing Dean a picture of a young, freckle-faced kid. "Two years ago he was killed by a hit and run." Dean passed the photo to Charlie, and she frowned, shaking her head to tell them that she didn't recognize the kid. "The car was describes as a black Toyota Camry, but nobody got the places or saw the driver."

"Oh my God," whispered Charlie, nearly dropping the picture as she brought her hands to her mouth in horror.

"What? What is it?" Buffy asked, taking the picture from the obviously distraught girl and handing it back to Sam.

"Jill drove that car." They were all quiet for a few minutes, letting the information sink in, before Dean spoke up, effectively breaking the silence.

"We need to get back to your friend Donna's house." Without another word, the four headed back to the Impala and got in, arriving at the beige cookie-cutter house a few minutes later. Quickly getting out of the car, Charlie once again went to the front door and Buffy, Dean, and Sam climbed the drain pipe onto the roof and slipped through the unlocked bathroom window, removing the mirror from the wall and taking out the black light. Running the light over the back of the mirror, they once again found a dripping hand print and a name, this time Linda Shoemaker.

"Well shit," Buffy said matter-of-factly, and both boys nodded in agreement. "This can't be good."

"No," Dean agreed, placing the mirror back on the wall and exiting the bathroom, heading for the stairs. "No, it can't. C'mon lets talk to the daughter about it." They walked into the living room where Charlie and Donna were sitting, the later giving them a suspicious look when she caught sight of them.

"What the hell are you doing here? How did you get in?" She turned toward Charlie, pinning her with an accusing glare. "You let them in, didn't you?"

"Donna, wait, they think they know something about your dad's death!" Charlie insisted, jumping to her feet when Donna stalked over to where Buffy and the boys were standing.

"I don't know who you are, but my dad died of a stroke, end of story."

"We don't think so," Buffy said, giving the girl a defiant look when she turned her with a raised eyebrow. "We think it was something else."

"Who was Linda Shoemaker?" asked Sam gently, placing a calming hand on Buffy's shoulder. He was really getting good at sensing her annoyance. Then again, it wasn't too hard to spot. She had never been one of those 'hide-your-emotions' girls.

"Why are you asking me this?" countered Donna, her resolve slipping, but the accusing anger was still present in her eyes.

"Look," said Sam, holding out his hands in a gesture of surrender. "We're sorry, but it's important."

"Linda's my mom, okay?" answered Donna, giving him a 'are you happy now?' look. "She overdosed on sleeping pills. It as an accident, and that's it. I think you should leave." With a dismissive glance, she turned away from them and started toward the stairs.

"Now Donna, just listen," coaxed Dean, trying to make her calm down.

"No!" the girl yelled. "Get out of my house!"

"Wait, Donna!" Buffy tried, but it was too late. She had already vaulted up the stairs and slammed her bedroom door. "Dammit."

"Oh my God," whispered Charlie, looking at Buffy with wide, fearful eyes. "Do you really think her dad could've killed her mom?"

"Maybe," said Sam, placing what he hoped was a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"I think I should stick around." Buffy, Dean, and Sam shared a look before agreeing.

"Alright," said Dean after sharing a look with Buffy. "Just, whatever you do, don't-..."

"Believe me, I won't say it," said Charlie, cutting him off.

"Be careful, okay?" Buffy told the blond, receiving a small nod and smile before exiting the house through the front door and walking over to the Imapla. Sighing, she slid into the back seat, waiting for the boys to get into the front. "So, what are we going to do now?"

"Go back to the motel?" Sam suggested as Dean started the car and pulled it out onto the main road. "More research can't hurt."

"We've already _looked_ through all that stuff," Buffy argued, clearly exasperated at the lack of information they had on the subject.

"I know," Sam answered, sighing in frustration and bringing a hand up to rub at his eyes. "But it's all we _can_ do." Buffy leaned her head against the window with a soft _crack_, staring at the houses passing, her breath making small puffs of condensation on the glass. A few minutes later, they pulled into the parking lot of the crappy motel they were staying at, and they all got out of the car, Buffy leading the way to their room and unlocking the door before entering and dropping onto the bed.

"I'm doing a nationwide search," said Dean, dropping his brown leather jacket on the back of the chair and plopping down into it, pulling Sam's computer toward him and turning it on.

"Wait, you're doing a _nationwide_ search?" Sam asked, falling flat on his back on the bed next to Buffy who rolled over onto her side and propped her head up with her hands.

"Yep," said Dean, the laptop's keys clicking softly beneath his fingertips. "The NCIC, the FBI database – at this point, any Mary who died in front of a mirror is good enough for me."

"But, if she's haunting the town," said Buffy hesitantly, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion, "she should've died here, right? Isn't that how it usually works?"

"Yeah, usually," said Sam, giving her an impressed look.

"Don't look at me like that," she said with a smile, sending a playful punch to his shoulder. She must have underestimated her strength, as he winced before rolling his eyes and grinning. Dean ignored them, wanting to get back to his point.

"I'm telling you, there's nothing local, I've checked." He was growing impatient, and his voice carried an underlying tone of annoyance. "So unless you got a better idea-..." Buffy gave him a look, and he sighed, taking a breath to calm himself. Sam waited until his brother looked like he wasn't going to rip off the head of the next person who spoke before continuing.

"The way Mary's choosing her victims, it seems like there's a pattern." Sam grabbed a handful of newspapers and flipping through them, but Buffy made no move to research, kicking off her shoes and curling up in a little ball next to Sam's head.

"I know," said Dean, much calmer than before. "I was thinking the same thing."

"With Mr. Shoemaker and Jill's hit and run..." Sam started, and something clicked in Buffy's brain.

"...they both had secrets where people died." Buffy finished, and Sam nodded.

"Exactly. I mean there's a lot of folklore about mirrors... that they reveal your lies, all your secrets, that they're a true reflection of your soul. Which is why it's bad lick to break them."

"Huh," came Buffy's eloquent, well-thought-out response, earning a raised eyebrow and an amused smile from Sam.

"Right, right," said Dean, once again ignoring Buffy and Sam's interaction, causing the Slayer to smile. If she didn't know better, she'd think he was jealous. "So maybe if you've got a secret, I mean like a really nasty one, where someone died, then Mary sees it and punishes you."

"Whether you summoned her or not," added Buffy, and Dean nodded before turning his attention back to Sam.

"Yeah, exactly." They continued to sit in silence for a few minutes, Dean and Sam researching and Buffy just chilling and watching them, until Dean waved his hand a few times to get their attention.

"Here, take a look at this." He haded a freshly printed picture, and Buffy cocked an eyebrow, not remembering ever having seen it before.

"Where'd you get that printer?" she asked, trying to keep the accusing tone out of her voice. But knowing Dean, he probably jacked it from somewhere.

"What? Nowhere!" he said and quickly moved on, causing Buffy to roll her eyes amusedly but let it go. There was no way she was going to get him to admit he stole it. Sam handed her a picture, and she saw that it showed a woman with long dark brown hair laying by a mirror in a puddle of blood. "This too," said Dean, handing Sam another picture. This one showed a familiar dripping hand print and the letters 'Tre.'

"Looks like the same hand print," Buffy observed, and Sam nodded in agreement.

"Her name was Mary Worthington... an unsolved murder in Fort Wayne, Indiana," offered Dean, shutting the laptop and turning off the printer. "We should go talk to the leading detective on her case."

"Yeah, alright, but we should get going now. It's getting dark." Sam replied, and Dean nodded, grabbing his jacket and pushing himself out of the chair.He dropped his own research to the bed and stood up, looking toward Buffy, silently asking her if she was going to come with.

"I'ma stay here," she supplied, shaking her head. "Wanna go out hunting. Haven't been in a while, and I need to get out some of this excess energy."

"Okay. Be careful," said Dean, stepping closer to her and giving her a kiss on the cheek, causing Buffy to cock an eyebrow. That was the first time he'd ever done that. Sam gave him a look as well, but quickly let it go and followed Dean to the door before stopping and turning around to face her.

"Call if you need us. We shouldn't be back that late."

"Yeah, alright," the blond agreed with a smile, watching as he turned and walked out, shutting the door behind him. Letting out an amused sigh and shaking her head, Buffy stripped off her t-shirt and walked over to her duffel bag, pulling out a simple black tank top. Slipping it on and her black leather jacket over it, she grabbed a few stakes and a room key, slipping them into her pocket before heading out the door. The night was quite uneventful, Buffy only finding a couple of stray vamps before stopping at the bar down the street for dinner and a couple of beers. She had never used to drink, having been put off of alcohol by her whole Cave Buffy experience, but since she had joined the boys in bar hopping almost every night, she had acquired a taste for it. A few hours later, she once again found herself at the door to her shared motel room and took out the key, effortlessly sliding it into the lock and pushing the door open. Absolutely exhausted and feeling the small amount of alcohol flowing through her body, she headed to the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face before stripping off her jeans and collapsing face down on the bed closest to the window, not even bothering to crawl under the covers. She was awakened an hour or so later by the sound of a key in the lock and opened her eyes to see Sam and Dean walking through the door, trying to be as quiet as possible so as not to wake her. Too late.

"Hey," she called, and the two jumped at her voice despite its quietness, not knowing that she was awake. Amused, she gave a small smile before sitting up and turning on the bedside lamp, uncaring about her half-clothed state. They had seen her like this many times before. Even less if she had a particularly bad wound that they had to clean and stitch up. Buffy watched them as the quickly recovered, Sam stripping off his coat, shoes, socks, and jeans before collapsing onto the unoccupied bed on the other side of the room, and Dean stripped down to his boxers, giving her a cocky grin when he noticed that her eyes were automatically drawn to his muscled chest. Realizing she was staring, she mentally shook her head before asking what they found out.

"A lot actually," answered Sam, looking quite pleased, as Dean walked into the bathroom, brushing his teeth before returning and nudging over so that she was on her side of the bed. "Detective said that someone broke into her apartment on the night of March 29th, murdered her, and cut her eyes out."

"Yikes," Buffy said, making a face and crawling under the covers, propping her head up with her hand so that she could see Sam over Dean's reclining figure.

"Yeah," Sam nodded. "Said that she spelled out the first three letters of her killer on the back of the mirror using her own blood. Like a clue for the cops to find. But it wasn't enough to prove who did it. No prints, no witnesses."

"She was cremated and the mirror was returned to her family," Dean supplied, bringing a hand up to lazily scratch at his chest, and once again Buffy's eyes were drawn to it, but she quickly looked away when he continued. "We're gonna go check it out in the morning."

"Yeah, okay," Buffy brought a hand to her mouth, stifling a yawn, and leaned back against her pillow, satisfied with what they learned. "Night, guys."

"Night, Buffy," the two chorused, and she quickly fell asleep to the sound of their combined breathing and the soft buzzing of the 'Vacancy' sign just outside their window.

Hearing a soft shuffling sound, Buffy cracked open an eye to see Sam, already dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, placing a hot cup of coffee next to her on the bedside table.

"Morning," she said, offering him a small smile. "Thanks for the coffee."

"Don't mention it," he gave her a curious look but quickly covered it with a smile and sitting down on his own bed. Wondering what the look was for, the blond started to swing her legs over the edge of the bed in an attempt to get up but was immediately blocked. Looking over her shoulder, she saw that Dean was once again curled up behind her, this time with one of his hands planted firmly on her hip and his legs tangled with hers. 'That's odd,' she thought to herself, furrowing her eyebrow in confusion. It was sort of inevitable that the would have end up in this position the previous night, but there was no reason for it this time. They both fell asleep on their own side of the bed, and Dean had never been a cuddly sleeper. Mentally shrugging, she gently lifted his arm and placed it on his chest before untangling her legs from his and slipping out from under the covers. Walking past Sam's bed, she could feel his eyes on her, knowing that he was wondering what was going on, but she decided to ignore him for the time being. Until _she_ was sure what was happening.

"Dude, wake up," Sam called, which was quickly followed by a muffled "Gerroff me" as Dean tried to block out Sam's voice by pulling a pillow over his face. Smiling amusedly, she grabbed a change of clothes and entered the bathroom, effectively cutting off Dean's irritated yell of "Dammit, Sam, I'm up! Get off me!" Decidedly ignoring the thumps and indignant yells, an obvious sign of a scuffle, Buffy quickly showered and changed into a pair of green cargo pants and a clean t-shirt, emerging from the bathroom a few minutes later only to see Sam and Dean still caught up in their fight. Dean, who was still clad in only his black boxer-briefs, had his little brother in a headlock, but Sam quickly gained the upper hand by sending a swift kick to his knee and pinning Dean to the ground when he recoiled in pain. Leaning against the doorway, Buffy watched for a few moments, her hands on her hips and the corners of her mouth turned up in an amused smile, before glancing over at the clock on the nightstand that read eleven a.m.

"Whenever you guys are done with this macho showdown," Buffy started, a slight smirk evident in her voice, "we should probably get going if we want to find that mirror." The two stopped at looked at her from their awkward positions, both panting slightly. "We're wasting daylight, and we don't even know where it is." Dean took full advantage of Sam's distraction, flipping him onto his back and pinning him to the ground with his knee before ruffling his too-long hair and standing up.

"Whatever you say, princess." Giving her his patented grin, he gathered up a handful of clothes from his duffel bag and sauntered into the bathroom, leaving Buffy to watch Sam pull himself to his feet. A few minutes later, Dean walked back into the room, to find them staring awkwardly at each other and not talking. Cocking an eyebrow, he chose to ignore it and dumped his discarded clothes into the laundry bag, clapping his hands when he was done to get their attention. "Breakfast?"

"Yeah, sure," Buffy agreed, getting to her feet and following Dean out the door and to the Impala. Shaking her head at Sam's silent invitation to sit up front, she opened the back driver's door and slid onto the cool leather, shutting it with a _creak_ and leaning back against the headrest as Dean started her up. As he pulled out onto the one-lane street, Sam took out his cell phone and punched in a number, informing them that he was going to call the family and see if they still had the mirror. Not really paying attention, Buffy stared aimlessly out the window, absently watching the trees and buildings fly by in a blur of colors.

"Oh really?" she heard Sam ask, and turned her attention to the front seat, wanting to know what he had learned. "Ah, that's too bad, Mr. Worthington. I would have paid a lot for that mirror."

'Damn,' she thought to herself, frowning slightly as Sam continued to talk to the man. 'No luck. Oh well, it was a long shot anyways.'

"Okay, well maybe next time." There was a pause as the voice on the other end said something. "Alright, thanks."

"Anything?" asked Dean as Sam put away his cellphone, earning a sigh and a shake of Sam's head.

"That was Mary's brother," he said, dropping the phone onto his lap and looking into the back seat where Buffy was staring at him intently with her head tilted to the side in curiosity. "The mirror was in the family for years. Until he sold it one week ago to a store called Estate Antiques. A store in Toledo."

"So..." said Buffy, furrowing her brow as she struggled to make the connection. "Mary's haunting this town 'cause her mirror's here?" Sam nodded.

"Her spirit's definitely tied up with it somehow."

"Isn't there an old superstition that says mirrors can capture spirits?" asked Dean, flicking on his left blinker and turning onto a near-empty street.

"Yeah, there is," Sam agreed, nodding once again. When someone would die in a house people would cover up the mirrors so the ghost wouldn't get trapped." Buffy watched silently from the back seat as Dean frowned in concentration, squinting slightly as a result of the sun shining through the windshield and right into his eyes.

"So Mary dies in front of a mirror, and it draws in her spirit."

"Yeah, but how could she move through like a hundred different mirrors?" asked Sam, earning a shrug from his brother.

"I don't know, but if the mirror is the source, I say we find it and smash it."

"That might not bet the best idea," Buffy piped in, causing Sam to turn around to look at her and Dean to glance at her through the rear view mirror. "What if smashing the thing releases her? We have no idea how to kill her, and I don't think it'll do us any good to have her walking around somewhere."

"Hm," muttered Sam thoughtfully, absently playing with the phone in his lap. "Maybe we-..." He was interrupted as the phone rang, and he quickly answered it, seeing that it was Charlie. "Hello?" A worried look appeared on his face, and Buffy could distinctly hear her, clearly hysterical, sobbing into the phone.

"She's after me!" the blond heard the other girl say, courtesy of her Slayer hearing. "Donna said it, and now she's coming after me! I saw her!"

"Gimme," Buffy ordered, and Sam quickly passed her the phone, swiveling around in the front seat to watch her. "Charlie? It's Buffy?"

"Oh God, Buffy! She's after me! I saw her in the window... In my teacher's glasses... I don't know what to do!"

"Alright, I want you to go outside." Her inner Slayer snapped into gear at the threat of an innocent, and she followed it's lead, quickly coming up with a game plan. "Somewhere you can't see your reflection in anything. Close your eyes. You're at school right?"

"Yeah."

"Go to the front of the school," Buffy told her, gesturing for Dean to turn the car around and drive to the school. "We'll be there as soon as we can. Don't talk to anyone and don't open your eyes. Do you understand?"

"Yeah, alright. Please hurry." With that, she hung up, and Buffy passed the phone to Sam before urging Dean to step on it. A few minutes later, they pulled up to the front of the school, and Buffy jumped out before they came to a stop, running over to a familiar blond figure who was sitting on a bench with her head in her knees. Rushing to her side, she placed a hand on the younger girl's shoulder, quickly snatching it back when the girl jumped and let out a surprised shriek.

"Charlie? It's Buffy." She didn't answer and continued to rock herself back and forth with her head in her hands. "We're going to take you somewhere safe, alright?" Charlie nodded without looking at her and allowed the older blond to take her by the arm and lead her over to the Impala where Sam and Dean were still seated. "Keep your eyes closed." Ducking the girl's head into the car, Buffy quickly ran around to the other side, getting in and allowing Charlie to lay her head on her lap, her eyes squeezed shut and her hands grasping the Slayer's arm with surprising strength. Giving Sam a worried look, she leaned her head against the window and closed her eyes as she stroked the other girl's long, blond hair comfortingly. In the blink of an eye, they were back at the hotel, and the boys got out of the car, Sam gently ushering Charlie out, and Dean running ahead to open the door to their room. Buffy got out of the car entered the room after them, sitting down on the bed next to the distraught Charlie and holding her head to her chest, gently running her hands down the other girl's back and making soft shushing sounds. Moving quickly around the room, Sam and Dean covered all of the potentially reflective surfaces with blankets and sheets before shutting the curtains and placing all of the mirrors face down.

"Hey, it's okay," Sam said gently, sitting down next to Charlie and putting a comforting hand on her back, his fingers interlacing with Buffy's. "You can open your eyes now." She shook her head in the crook of Buffy's neck, and the two hunters exchanged worried glances. "It's okay, I promise," he tried again, giving the girl a small smile when she shakily extracted herself from Buffy's embrace and looked over at him. "Now listen. You're gonna stay right here on this bed, and you're not gonna look at glass, or anything that has a reflection, okay?" Charlie nodded. "As long as you do that, she can't get you."

"But I can't keep that up forever," she said, looking over at Buffy. "I'm gonna die, aren't I?"

"No. Not anytime soon," Sam answered, but the blond didn't remove her eyes from Buffy's.

"Alright, Charlie," Dean started, sitting down on the bed next to Buffy. "We need to know what happened."

"We were in the bathroom..." she started, her voice barely above a whisper. "Donna said it."

"That's not what he's talking about," Buffy informed her gently, placing a hand on the girl's pack and moving it back and forth in a circular pattern. "Something happen, didn't it? Someone got hurt?" Charlie once again nodded but made no move to elaborate. "Can you tell us about it?" she prodded gently, watching as the girl looked down at her lap.

"I had this boyfriend. I loved him. But he kind of scared me too, you know?" She looked up into the older woman's eyes, and Buffy nodded, knowing exactly what she was talking about. Pretty much the definition of her relationship with Angel. "One night, at his house, we got in this fight. Then I broke up with him, and he got upset, and he said he needed me... and he loved me... and he said, 'Charlie, if you walk out that door right now, I'm gonna kill myself.'" Buffy's heart broke for the girl, speculating where this story was going. "And you know what I said? I said 'Go ahead.' And I left. How could I say that? How could I leave him like that? I just... I didn't believe him, you know? I should have." She once again dissolved into sobs, and Buffy drew her head into her lap, exchanging a look with the boys.

"Sweetheart," she said softly, her fingers threading through the other girl's hair. "It wasn't your fault. You couldn't have known."

"Yeah, Charlie," Sam said, his eyes glued to Buffy's, silently asking her what they should do now. "You can't blame yourself for what happened." The Slayer was impatient and gunning for a fight, and Buffy gently shifted Charlie's head onto Dean's lap and got up, pacing the room and absently playing with a loose piece of skin on her thumb.

"Alright, we need to end this as soon as possible," she said, mostly to herself, but she felt Sam and Dean's eyes snap over to her. "I say we go find the mirror and destroy it. Kill the bitch before she can kill anyone else."

"Well, hell, you know I'm in," answered Dean with a grin, causing Buffy to roll her eyes in amusement at his enthusiasm. However, Sam didn't appear as excited and glanced at Charlie's prone form before looking back at Buffy.

"What about Charlie?"

"She'll be fine here," she answered, continuing to pace the room. "It's going to take all of us to find Mary and to kill her." Walking back over to the bed, she dropped to her knees in front of Charlie, tipping her chin up and looking into her eyes. "Will you be alright here by yourself?"

"She can't get me, right?" Charlie asked. Her eyes were puffy and red from crying and her was voice extremely quiet. At the shake of Buffy's head, she nodded, sitting up and giving Dean a tearful smile. "Yeah, I'll be fine."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," she said, nodding again.

"Alright..." Buffy exchanged glances with Sam and Dean before standing up. "C'mon boys, lets go kill the big bad." Throwing one last glance over her shoulder at Charlie, Buffy threw on her black leather jacket before opening the door and walking out, stopping and waiting at the car for it to be unlocked. Getting into the back seat, she buckled her seat belt, watching as the boys got into the car and Dean started her up and drove toward the antique shop where Sam had said the mirror was being kept.

"You know, her boyfriend killing himself," Dean started, sparing a glance at a tall, read headed woman walking down the street before turning his attention toward his brother, "That's not really Charlie's fault."

"You know as well as I do that spirits don't exactly see shades of gray, Dean," Sam answered, giving Dean a look. "Charlie had a secret, someone died, that's enough for Mary."

"Yeah I guess..."

"I know, I've been thinking," said Sam, breaking the silence that had settled over the car as they let the previous revelation sink in. "Buffy might be right. It might not be enough to just smash that mirror."

"I agree," said Buffy, leaning forward in her seat so that her head was in between Sam and Dean's. "But what do we do?"

"She moves from mirror to mirror, right? So who's to say that she's not gonna just keep hiding in them forever? So maybe we should try to pin her down, you know, summon her to her mirror and then smash it."

"Huh..." Buffy said thoughtfully.

"How do you know that's going to work?" Dean asked at the same time.

"I don't, not for sure," said Sam with a sigh, seeing the flaw in his plan.

"Well, who's gonna summon her?" Dean pinned Sam with a look that said 'it'd better not be you."

However, Sam ignored him.

"I will. She'll come after me."

"You know what, that's it," growled Dean, swerving the car to the side of the road and causing Buffy to fall back in her seat. "This is about Jessica, isn't it? You think that's your dirty little secret, that you killed her somehow? Sam, this has got to stop, man!" Buffy looked on awkwardly, wondering if she should get out of the car and give the two some alone time. "I mean, the nightmares and calling her name out in the middle of the night. It's gonna kill you! Now listen to me. It wasn't your fault." She brought her hand to the handle and pushed the door open, but quickly shut it again when Dean's eyes snapped to her, telling her to stay where she was, before returning his attention to Sam and continuing his rant. "If you wanna blame something, then blame the thing that killed her. Or hell, why don't you take a swing at me? I mean I'm the one that dragged you away from her in the first place!" He was practically yelling now, and Buffy stiffened, not liking where this was going and the way that it was affecting Sam.

"Dean. Stop."

"I don't blame you," said Sam quietly, ignoring Buffy and continuing to stare unwaveringly into his brother's eyes.

"Well, you shouldn't blame yourself," Dean answered, his voice lowering to it's normal volume, and looked into the back seat, giving Buffy an apologetic look for blowing up. "Because there's nothing you could've done."

"I could have warned her," countered Sam, stubbornly holding onto the illusion that he could have done something.

"About what?" asked Dean, his temper flaring up once again at Sam's refusal to accept that Jessica's death wasn't his fault. "You didn't know what was gonna happen! And besides, all of this isn't a secret, I mean I know all about it. It's not gonna work with Mary anyway." He ripped his gaze from his brother's in an attempt to calm down. Buffy worried her bottom lip in between her teeth, wanting to interrupt and run interference but knowing that it was good for both of them to get their feelings out into the open.

"No," countered Sam, shaking his head. "You don't. You don't know all about it. I haven't told you everything."

"What are you talking about?" Dean snapped, looking back at Sam.

"Well, it wouldn't really be a secret if I told you, would it?" Dean seemed to ponder this for a second before vehemently shaking his head and flailing his arms around wildly.

"No," he insisted, pinning Sam with a 'you'll do what I say' look. "I don't like it. It's not gonna happen. Forget it!"

"Dean!" Sam practically yelled, clearly exasperated that they weren't getting anywhere. "That girl back there is going to die unless we do something about it! And you know what? Who knows how many more people are gonna die after that?" Dean was looking more and more uncomfortable with each passing second, staring straight ahead and gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles turned white. "Now we're doing this. You've got to let me do this."

"Sam," he ground out through gritted teeth, but Buffy interrupted him before he could say anything else.

"Sam, you're not doing it." Two pairs of eyes snapped toward her, but she stood her ground. "I am. There is no way I'm gonna risk your life." The three were silent for a moment until Dean shook his head and threw his hands up in exasperation.

"What the hell is it with you two throwing yourself into the line of fire! Buffy, there's no way you're doing this. You could get killed!"

"At least she would be dead," she reasoned, watching as his frustrated expression turned to one of surprise. Since she came back, she found herself quicker to throw herself into the fight, no matter the consequences. It wasn't that she _wanted _to die; it was simply that she knew now, more than ever, that she, and everyone who fought for the the side of good, was disposable and had to go sometime. Today, tomorrow, a year from now, she would eventually die. And dammit, she was gonna go out fighting. Giving a shrug at Dean's look of surprise and Sam's look of concern, she steeled herself for the fight that was about to come.

"Buffy, there is no way I'm letting you do that," came Sam's soft, gentle voice at the same time Dean's annoyed one practically shouted. "No. No freaking way!"

"Guys," Buffy reasoned, pinning both of them with a look. "You know what I am. What my duty is. I'm _going_ to die one day. Again. And you're going to have to let me. It's for the greater good." Apparently they didn't have anything to say to that. They knew that she was the Slayer, that she had died to save the world, that she would _probably_ die again some time soon. But they were going to do everything in their power to keep her with them. Dean started to protest, but Buffy held up a hand to silence him before he could open his mouth.

"If you don't let me do this, I'm gonna knock you both unconscious and go without you. Either you can come with me and let me do it, or I'm gonna do it on my own without your help." There was a moment of silence as Dean continued to glare at her before conceding and nodding slowly. Sam simply sat there with a concerned look on his face that made Buffy unsure of whether she wanted to kiss him or punch him in the face.

"Alright," muttered Dean, his voice gruff with suppressed emotion. "We'll do it your way. But I don't like it."

"I know." Buffy smiled at him but didn't make any move to elaborate, and Dean turned back so that he was facing forward and started the car. Sam continued to stare at her for a few seconds before doing the same and staring out the front window. The rest of the drive was made in silence, and a few minutes later, they pulled up to a small, shabby-looking store and pulled around to the back, parking near the back entrance. "Alright boys, lets do this." Quickly getting out of the car and pulling her jacket closer to her to block out the wind that had shown up the second the sun went down, she walked over to the door, leaning against the wall and waiting for Sam to pick the lock. A few seconds later, she heard a soft _click_ and shot Sam a smile for holding the door open for her before walking in and looking around, squinting slightly as her Slayer senses got used to the darkness. There was a collective groan from the three as they noticed that the shop was filled wall to wall with antique mirrors.

"Well... that's just... great," groaned Dean, pulling the picture of a dead Mary Worthington lying in front of the mirror out and passing it around. "Alright, lets start looking." Giving him a mock salute, Buffy split off from the boys and headed to the right, inspecting each mirror she saw in search for the right one. "Maybe they've already sold it," she heard Dean call, and she frowned, wondering what they would do if the owner had indeed sold it. Oh well, they'd cross that bridge when they came to it.

"I don't think so," Sam called back, and she craned her neck toward the back of the store to see him pointing his flashlight at a familiar-looking mirror. Abandoning her search, she walked over to him, stopping at his side and giving the mirror a once-over.

"Yahtzee," she said softly, earning an amused look from Dean when he came up next to her.

"That's it," he said, quickly comparing the mirror to the one in the picture before shoving the piece of crumpled paper into his jacket pocket. "Here." He haded Buffy a crow bar which she readily accepted, tightening her grip on it the second it touched her hands.

"You guys should go somewhere else. She might not come out when you're here."

"Like hell," Dean said, standing his ground, but quickly looked around toward the front of the shop and swore when a bright light shone through the front window, nearly blinding all three of them. "Crap. I'll go check that out. Stay here," he ordered, handing Sam his crossbar and flashlight. "Smash anything that moves." He took a few steps toward the front of the store before turning back and pinning Sam with a look. "Keep her safe." With that, he disappeared into the clutter of the small store, and Buffy turned back toward the mirror, taking a deep breath and tightening her grip on the metal she held in her hands.

"You sure about this," Sam whispered, his eyes trained on the mirror as well. "Because I can-..."

"No," she answered quickly, cutting him off before he could start to protest. "I'm sure." There was a pause as she took another deep breath. "Bloody Mary. Bloody Mary." She looked over at Sam to see him watching her, his jaw clenched and his knuckles almost white from his grip on the crowbar. "Bloody Mary." The tense silence was interrupted by a loud breath from neither Buffy or Sam, and the two spun around into a fighting stance, seeing nothing in the mirror behind them.

"There!" Sam yelled, and Buffy spun around, smashing the mirror to the right the second she saw a dirty, female figure with her hair over her face in it. Catching a quick movement out of the corner of her eye, she spun around and smashed the mirror to her left the second Mary disappeared from it.

"Smash all the other mirrors! Make her go into this one!" Buffy ordered, and together, she and Sam destroyed all of the surrounding mirrors, littering the ground with shattered glass and broken frames. "C'mon..." she muttered to herself, turning back to the intricately carved, gold mirror that Mary had killed herself in and staring into it. "C'mon..." All of a sudden, the look in the eyes of her reflection turned cold and the corners of its lips turned up into a smirk, no longer mimicking her features. All of a sudden, it felt like all of the air was sucked from her lungs, and she gasped for breath, dropping the crowbar in her hand to the floor and watching helplessly as a trickle of blood flowed from the inner corner of both of her eyes. Feeling as if her heart was to explode, she grabbed her chest before falling to the floor, still gasping for breath, her eyes glued her reflection in the mirror.

"Your duty, your _destiny_," mirror-Buffy spat at her. "It killed all those people. Ford, Harmony, Angel, your _mother_. So many others that you probably don't even remember. They were nothing to you. Just casualties of war. Your job is to save people! Not to kill them! How could you let them all die!? It was your job, your _duty_ to protect them!"

"Sam," Buffy managed to gasp out, trying to block mirror-Buffy's voice from her head, to keep it from affecting her, to stop it from speaking her inner most fears, most guilty and painful moments of her life. "Smash it..." A second later, she was showered with glass that cut her face and arms, and the constricting feeling in her lungs and heart disappeared as quickly as it had started, leaving her panting and gasping on the floor. Sam grabbed her waist and dragged her back from the mirror, keeping his arms wrapped around her even when he tripped and collapsed onto the ground with Buffy in his lap.

"Buffy!" Dean called, dropping to his knees next to her and using his thumb to wipe at the blood dripping down her left cheek while Sam took the right. "Jesus, are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," she managed, still gasping slightly to catch her breath, and swatted their hands away from her face. "I'm fine. Is she dead?" Looking over toward the mirror, she groaned when she saw a hand grasping the frame and in the blind of an eye, Mary was climbing out of the broken mirror, much like the little girl from _The Ring_. It was even creepier in person. "Oh, crap." Sam and Dean stopped fussing over her cuts and scrapes and looked up into her face, following her gaze toward the dark figure which had almost clawed its way out of the mirror. Feeling the familiar tightening feeling in her chest and the blood dripping down her cheeks, Buffy looked around wildly, spotting a mirror that she and Sam hadn't managed to destroy. A light bulb went off in her head, she looked back at Mary, who was now walking toward them with her arms outstretched, before quickly making up her mind to move before she was completely incapacitated. Pushing herself off of Sam's now convulsing body as he tried to draw air into his lungs, she forced herself up onto her hands and knees and crawled over to it, grabbing it and flinging herself back over to the boys, holding the mirror in between them and Mary as a shield. Making sure that the woman could see her own reflection, Buffy watched weakly, her arms hardly able to hold up the heavy mirror, as Mary started choking, grasping at her throat desperately, before literally _melting_ into a puddle of blood. Feeling the tightening in her chest lift, Buffy summoned all of her energy and threw the mirror across the room, where it crashed into the wall and shattered into a thousand pieces, before collapsing and allowing her head to lay limply on Sam's rapidly-moving chest.

"You guys alright?" came Dean's voice from where his head was buried in her lower back. When she and Sam didn't answer, he asked again, this time slightly worried. "Guys?"

"Yeah, we're fine," Sam answered around his gasps, giving Buffy's arm a small squeeze when she nodded her head into his stomach and made a weak groaning sound that seemed to satisfy Dean. The three continued to lay there for a few minutes, blood smearing their faces and the shattered glass digging through their clothes into their skin, before, as usual, Dean broke the silence with a witty remark.

"This has got to be like... what? Six-hundred years of bad luck?" Buffy groaned at his lame attempt at humor, feeling Sam's chest jerk as he chuckled, before pushing herself to her feet and helping a grinning Dean to his. Once he got up, Sam wrapped an arm around her waist, Dean doing the same, and the three staggered out of the back door and over to the Impala and got in, Buffy sitting in the back seat with her legs curled under her and her forehead leaning against the cool glass of the window. The drive back was made in silence, and the second they got back to the hotel room, they all collapsed onto one bed, as Charlie was fast asleep on the other, without even bothering to undress or clean themselves up. The next morning they got up with the sun, and started packing, Dean wanting to get out of town as soon as possible. Finishing packing her bag, Buffy nudged Charlie awake and ushered the still-half-asleep girl outside and into the back seat of the car. Dean and Sam joined them and a few minutes later, they were driving down the main road toward Charlie's.

"So this is really over?" Charlie asked her the second they pulled up in front of her house. It looked exactly like Donna's, but this one was painted a light blue color.

"Yeah, it's over," Buffy confirmed, nodding her head." You'll never have to worry about Mary again."

"Thank you," Charlie said sincerely, earning a smile from both Buffy and Dean.

"Charlie?" Sam said softly, causing her to look straight into his chocolate-brown eyes. "Your boyfriend's death. You should really try to forgive yourself. No matter what you did, you probably couldn't have stopped it. Sometimes bad things just happen." Charlie gave him a faint smile before shaking Dean and Sam's hands and giving Buffy one last look. Getting out of the door, she disappeared across the perfectly-manicured lawn and through the simple white door, leaving Buffy and the Winchesters staring after her.

"That's good advice," Dean said, gently hitting his little brother on the arm. Sam gave him a small smile, and the elder of the boys turned the key in the ignition, starting the car, and pulled away from the curb and onto the street. "Hey Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Now that this is over," Dean started, keeping his eyes on the road and his hands planted firmly on the steering wheel, "I want you to tell me what that secret is." At Sam's pause, Buffy snapped her gaze out the window and attempted to zone out, sensing a brotherly-moment that she wasn't part of. However, Sam didn't seem to be in the mood to share, and she turned her attention back to the front seat at his next comment, watching warily as Dean's jaw clenched in annoyance but made no move to push him.

"Look... you're my brother," Sam said softly, looking over at a serene-looking Dean, "and I'd die for you, but there are some things I need to keep to myself." Giving a small nod, Dean detached his hand from the steering wheel and turned the music up so that Buffy could barely hear her own thoughts over the sound of Blue Oyster Cult blasting through the car. She ignored it the best that she could, having had lots of practice dealing with his ungodly loud music the last couple of weeks, and tilted her head to the side, watching as Sam continued to stare out the passenger-side window. Sighing slightly, she leaned back against the leather headrest and closed her eyes, wondering to herself where they were heading next.  
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Damn, that was a long chapter. TWENTY ONE PAGES. Oh well, I guess it was worth it 'cause I didn't want to split it up again. Again, sorry for the wait, but I hope you enjoyed it anyways! Drop me a review on your way out to tell me how you liked it and what episode you want me to cover next! )


	5. Skin Part 1

Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, own neither Buffy or Supernatural. They both belong to their respective geniuses, Joss and Kripke. I'm just borrowing them for a while for my own entertainment. If the boys were mine, lemme tell ya, they wouldn't be traveling the country fighting stuff. I'd find a few uses for them in my own house... Heh, j/k (but not really). This episode is pretty word for word from the Supernatural episode "Skin." Transcripts taken from twiztv.

Thanks to Kriti, ZoiAstrea, cursed, urangel, wolfgirl, iamkagomeiloveinuyasha, and Lotusblossom for your awesome reviews! Your reviews are my anti-drug! D To all of you who are wondering if this is a Buffy/Dean fic because she's getting so close to Sam, I assure you that it is. Sam just thinks of her as a little sister and would do anything to protect her. I could totally see him being like that since he was the first one she opened up to her...

I'm sorry it took so long to post this, my muse sort of lost interest, but I think I've kicked her back into gear, and I should be able to be a bit quicker about getting the updates out. Hope you're still with me!

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"Have a nice day!" Buffy smiled at the cashier of the gas station convenience store as she handed him back the bathroom key before walking out the door and stopping next to Dean, who was standing in front of the various pumps. Flashing him a small smile in greeting, she hopped up onto the hood of the car to wait for him to finish, giving Sam, who was busy playing with his Blackberry, a mock-salute.

"What's up?" she asked, seemingly having caught the brothers in another of their meaningless little arguments.

"Sam's talking to one of his college buddies," Dean answered, yanking the gas pump from his car and replacing it in its cradle before paying with one of his many fake credit cards.

"Ah, alright," she said, jumping off of the hood of the Impala and sliding into the back seat, closing the door behind her. "Where are we going?"

"Figured we'd hit Tucumcari by lunch," the older man answered, getting into the driver's seat and grabbing a box from the glove compartment, rifling through it in search of his Metallica tape. "Then head south, hit Bisbee by midnight." Buffy nodded, watching as he extracted the desired tape and popped it into the tape player, filling the car with loud music.

"God..." Sam muttered, causing her attention to snap toward him. He'd been uncharacteristically quiet, and she furrowed her brow in concern, wondering what was going on.

"What's wrong?" she asked, tilting her head to the side when he shifted in his seat to look at her.

"In this email from this girl, Rebecca Warren, a college friend of mine in St. Louis-..."

"Is she hot?" Dean interrupted, and Sam continued, decidedly ignoring him.

"I went to school with her," he started, his attention once again drawn back to his Blackberry, "and her brother, Zack. She says Zack's been charged with murder. He's been arrested for killing his girlfriend. Rebecca says he didn't do it, but it sounds like the cops have a pretty good case."

"Dude, what kind of people are you hangin' out with?" Dean asked skeptically, turning to look at his little brother. Buffy gave him a look, and he rolled his eyes, giving her an apologetic smile.

"Did you want to go check it out?" she asked sympathetically, knowing that she would want to if it was her friend that was in trouble.

"Yeah," Sam nodded, but Dean once again interrupted him.

"Look, sorry 'bout your buddy, okay? But this doesn't sound like our kind of problem."

"It is our problem," Sam insisted, slipping his phone in to his front pocket. "They're my friends."

"St. Louis is four hundred miles behind us, Sam!" Dean protested weakly, gesturing wildly at nothing in particular.

"Dean..." Buffy started, and Sam gave his brother his patented kicked puppy eyes. Dean sighed defeatedly, knowing he had absolutely no chance of winning, and gave them both a look before pulling out of the gas station and onto the open road. Giving Sam a grin, she settled back against the leather seat, closing her eyes, knowing that they had a long way to go. Several hours, and a handful of bathroom breaks, later the Impala pulled to a stop in front of a gigantic white house, and Buffy stepped out of the car, raising her arms above her head to stretch out her sore muscles. Smiling contentedly at the crack her back made and seeing Dean staring at her, she gave him a wink and a smirk before falling into step behind Sam and following him up the front walkway. After he rang the doorbell, there were a few seconds of silence before Buffy heard the clicking of high heels on tile and the door was flung open, revealing a pretty blond girl in a blue patterned dress top, jeans, and a lime green tie sweater.

"Oh my God, Sam!" she greeted when she saw who it was, a smile lighting up her face.

"Well, if it isn't little Becky," Sam teased, giving her a smile in return.

"You know what you can do with that little Becky crap," she teased right back before pulling him in for a hug and giggling, causing Buffy to raise an eyebrow in Dean's direction, only to see that he was staring intently at the blond, an invisible puddle of drool was forming at his feet.

"I got your e-mail," Sam continued, pulling back from the hug.

"I didn't think that you could come here," Rebecca answered, sounding extremely grateful that he had shown up to help her.

"Dean," Dean introduced himself, stepping forward and extending his hand. He wasn't the kind of guy to stand back and be ignored by a beautiful woman, and Buffy smirked, seeing Sam roll his eyes in mild annoyance. "Older brother."

"Hi," she greeted, shaking his hand.

"Buffy," the Slayer said with a nod when the younger woman had released Dean's hand and turned her attention to her.

"Nice to meet you," she responded with a small smile before looking back over at Sam.

"We're here to help," he started, giving her his sympathetic eyes. "Whatever we can do."

"Come in," Rebecca said, disappearing through the doorway and gesturing for the other three to follow. Buffy took in the spacious and beautifully decorated house with wide eyes, Dean's hand on the small of her back being the only thing keeping her from stopping to admire it.

"Nice place," he voiced, and the other girl looked back at him with a smile before answering.

"It's my parents'. I was just crashing here for the long weekend when everything happened." She led them into a spectacular kitchen with stainless steel appliances and marble counter tops. It was the nicest house Buffy had ever been in. Figures that it was for business. "I decided to take the semester off. I'm gonna stay until Zack's free."

"Where are your folks?" Sam asked, running a hand over the smooth counter tops.

"They live in Paris for half the year, so they're on their way home now for the trial." She walked over to the fridge, opening it and looking back over her shoulder at her guests. "You guys want a beer or something?"

"Hey-..." Dean started with a smile, fully intent on taking advantage of her hospitality, but Sam quickly interrupted him, giving him a look.

"No, thanks. So tell us what happened."

"Well, um," she said, closing the fridge door and taking a few steps closer to Sam, "Zack came home, and he found Emily tied to a chair. And she was beaten up and bloody and she wasn't breathing..." A few tears squeezed themselves from her light green eyes and traced a path down her cheek. Buffy frowned and walked over to the girl, gently leading her over to the kitchen table, pushing her into one of the cushioned-covered chairs. Since hitting the road with the two brothers, she had all but perfected dealing with the families of victims. Giving her a grateful smile, Rebecca waited for Dean and Sam to join them at the small table before continuing. "So, he called 911, and the police... they showed up and arrested him. But the thing is, the only way that Zack could've killed Emily is if he was in two places at a time." Buffy, Sam, and Dean all exchanged a look, but it went unnoticed by Rebecca. "The police... they have a video. It's from the security tape from across the street. And it shows Zack coming home at 10:30. Now, Emily was killed just after that, but I swear, he was here with me, having a few beers, until at least after midnight," she finished, her voice cracking with emotion.

"Could we maybe see the crime scene?" Buffy asked, watching as the other girl's gaze shifted to her. "Maybe if we could look around a little bit, we'd be able to figure out what was going on."

"We could," Dean agreed, flashing the girl a grin.

"Why?" Rebecca asked, glancing over at Sam who was still looking at her with a sympathetic tilt of his head. "I mean, what could you do?" Buffy blanked for a second, but Sam quickly interjected.

"Well, me, not much. But Dean's a cop." The Slayer raised an eyebrow at him, and Dean laughed before quickly recovering and nodding.

"Detective, actually," he embellished and Buffy rolled her eyes at Sam who quickly covered an amused smile when Rebecca looked over at him.

"Really?" Dean nodded, flashing her one of his patented grins that had women practically throwing themselves at him. "When?"

"Bisbe, Arizona," he answered after a pause. "But I'm off-duty now."

"You guys, it's so nice to offer, but I just... I don't know," she responded hesitantly, looking down at her hands.

"Bec," Sam started gently, causing her to look up into his soulful brown eyes. "Look, I know Zack didn't do this. Now, we have to find a way to prove that he's innocent." She hesitated for a second before standing up, Buffy, Sam, and Dean getting up from their own chairs.

"Okay," she agreed before walking toward the door into the front hall. "I'm gonna go get the keys." Watching as she disappeared from the room, Dean turned toward his little brother and pinned him with a look.

"Oh, yeah, man, you're a real straight shooter with your friends." Glaring, Buffy smacked him on the shoulder, causing him to wince, and followed the other girl out of the room at to the car, sliding into the back seat as soon as he had unlocked the doors. A few minutes later, they pulled up to a small, one-story house. Getting out of the car, Buffy ran a hand through her long blond hair, pushing it out of her face, before following the other three to the front door.

"Are you sure this is okay?" Rebecca asked, watching as Dean took the keys from her hand and unlocked the door.

"Yeah," he answered, handing her back her the keys and entering the house, ducking under the police tape and holding it up so that Buffy could walk under it. Shooting him a smile, she walked further into the small house, seeing that everything was pretty much intact, although the counters and walls were smeared with dried blood.

"Bec, you wanna wait outside?" she heard Sam ask, and she turned to see the other girl lingering in the doorway.

"No, I wanna help," she answered, ducking underneath the tape and taking a few steps into the room before stopping. Careful not to touch anything, the Slayer skirted around the edge of the room, entering the bedroom and getting the full layout of the place. Seeing a chair drenched in blood with tattered restraints hanging from the armrests, she walked toward it, hopping over a small puddle of dried blood to examine it. Feeling Dean enter the room behind her, she stood up and sighed, unable to find anything conclusive from her examination.

"Hey," he greeted, coming up behind her. "Anything?"

"Nothing," she answered, frustrated. "No magical residue, no evidence of anything supernatural. Whoever did this was definitely human." Letting out a groan, he turned and exited the room with Buffy on his heels, stopping next to Sam, who was standing in front of the stainless steel refrigerator, staring at a picture of him, Rebecca, and Zack that had been pinned to the surface.

"So, the neighbor's dog went psycho right around the time Zack's girlfriend was killed," he started, but Sam didn't look away from the picture.

"Animals can have a sharp sense of the paranormal," he muttered, finally ripping his gaze from the photograph and turned toward them.

"Yeah, maybe Fido saw somethin'."

"So," Sam said, fixing his brother with a 'told you so' look. "You think maybe this _is_ our kind of problem?"

"See here's the thing," Buffy started. "I swept the place, and there's no... magical residue or anything. You know how I can usually feel it if something supernatural happened?" Sam nodded. "Well there was nothing. _Nothing_. I didn't feel anything." He tilted his head to the side, confused about what she was getting at. "The thing that did this... It's human... Or some sort of... mutation of a human. It's not a demon or anything." She quieted when Rebecca walked over to them, watching as Sam stared off, deep in thought. "Hey, Rebecca, do you think we could see the security tape?"

"Yeah," Dean continued, snapping into pseudo-detective mode, "the security footage... You think maybe your lawyers could get their hands on it? Cause I just don't have that kind of jurisdiction."

"I've already got it," she answered, causing Dean to raise an eyebrow at her. "I didn't wanna say anything in front of the cop." This caused him to laugh. "I stole it off the lawyer's desk. I just had to see it for myself."

"Alright," Sam said, and the four exited the small house and got into the car, arriving back at Rebecca's parents' place a few minutes later. Following her into the house, Buffy, Dean, and Sam sat down on the blush sofas while Rebecca went to retrieve the tape from her room. "How could this thing be human?" he asked when she was out of earshot.

"Unless the kid has an evil twin brother..." she trailed off, furrowing her brow in concentration, trying to remember something that Giles had told her years ago. "It could have... evolved. Some sort of... mutation that gave it the ability to take on any appearance it wants." Seemed like all the research she had been forced to do was useful after all. Just then, Rebecca came back into the room and put the tape in before sitting down on the couch next to Sam and pressing 'play.'

"Here he comes," she said, pointing at the T.V. The screen was divided into four pannels, each showing a different angle. Sure enough, it showed Zack walking into his house at...

"22:04," Dean said, squinting to see the little numbers in the corner of the screen. "That's just after ten. You said time of death was about ten thirty?"

"Our lawyers hired some kind of video expert," she said, still watching the tape. "He says the tape's authentic. It wasn't tampered with." Noticing something, Buffy glanced over at Sam and they shared a look. Apparently he had seen the same thing. Looking over at Dean, she saw that he was oblivious as ever.

"Hey, Bec," Sam said, turning toward Rebecca. "Can we take those beers now?"

"Oh, sure," she answered, handing him the remote and standing up, heading toward the kitchen. "Buffy?"

"Please." The other girl nodded and was almost out of the room before Sam called her back.

"Maybe some sandwiches, too?"

"What do you think this is, Hooters?" she asked with a smile and left the room, leaving Dean staring after her wistfully.

"I wish..." Rolling her eyes in his direction and causing him to give her a bright grin, she turned her attention back to Sam. "What is it?"

"Take a look at this," Buffy said, gesturing for him to rewind the tape and replay it. Cutting the play speed down to half, the three watched as Zack walked directly past the camera, his eyes a bright silver color when they reflected the light. "You see his eyes? I've never seen that before."

"Maybe it's just a camera flare," he reasoned, but Sam shook his head.

"That's not like any camera flare I've ever seen," he answered, pressing pause and throwing the remote back on the couch. "You know, a lot of cultures believe that a photograph can catch a glimpse of the soul." He paused, looking at Buffy. "Remember that dog was freaking out? Maybe he saw this thing. Maybe this is some kind of dark double of Zack's, something that looks like him but isn't him." She gave him a 'duh' look. Exactly what she had been trying to tell them.

"Like a Doppelganger?" Dean asked, but Buffy shook her head, remembering the fiasco when Anya summoned Willow's dark double to Sunnydale like it was yesterday.

"No, Doppelgangers are demons, supernatural creatures. This thing's human."

"Here you go, guys," Rebecca returned, handing each of them a beer and cracking one open for herself. "Figure anything out?" The three exchanged a look before Sam answered.

"Maybe, we're not sure yet." They finished their beers in silence, each deep in thought. By the time they were done, it had already gotten dark, and the left with the promise that they would contact her if they learned anything.

"I don't know if we should tell her," Buffy said when they got in the car, watching Dean start her up and sped down the road in the direction of the nearest place to crash. "The girl doesn't know about the things that go bump in the night. If we don't have to tell her, we shouldn't."

"What do you suggest?" Sam asked, looking back at her, but she shrugged, drawing a blank.

"I don't know." A few minutes later, they pulled into the parking lot of an old, rundown motel and got out of the car, waiting for Dean to get them a room before unloading their duffel bags and entering the small room. Throwing her bag on one of the beds, she gathered up her toiletries, a clean set of underwear, her favorite pair of jeans, and a simple black tank top and walked into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind her. Quickly washing her body and hair, she stepped out of the tub and wrapped a fluffy white towel around her, squeezing the water from her hair and washing her face. Pulling on her clean clothes and gathering the dirty ones in her arms, she hung up the towel and exited the small bathroom, seeing that Dean was sprawled out on one of the bed flipping through the channels on the ancient T.V. and Sam once again had his nose buried in his laptop, researching the case.

"You hungry?" Dean asked when he caught sight of her, his eyes lingering for a second on her tight top. At her nod he pushed himself up off of the bed and shut off the T.V. "Dude, Sam, get up. Food time." After a couple more seconds of furious typing, he nodded and packed up his computer, stowing it in his messenger bag and swinging it over her shoulder. Dumping her dirty laundry into her duffel bag and grabbing her favorite leather jacket, Buffy slid it on and followed them out the door and down the street to a local diner. Looking up as the bell above the door tinkled when they entered, she scooted into a worn booth next to Dean, giving the older waitress a polite smile.

"Hi, dears," the woman greeted with a smile, pulling out a pencil and notepad. "What can I get y'all to drink?" The three gave their orders before returning to their menus and settling in for their food. The conversation was filled with theories about the thing that had killed Zack's girlfriend, and Buffy was glad for it. She tried to steer clear of any discussion of her past, even though Sam and Dean often dropped hits that they wanted to know more. Finishing about half an hour later, they headed to the bar down the street as they always did, Sam making a beeline for the nearest booth and booting up his computer. Giving him an amused smile, she walked over to the bar and ordered two beers, her eyes narrowing slightly when Dean veered off in the direction of two scantily clad women. Thanking the bartender, she walked back to where Sam was seated and sat down, sliding him a beer and smiling at his soft 'thanks.'

"He likes you," he muttered, taking a swig of his beer without looking away from his computer screen.

"Hmmm?" she asked around a mouthful of foamy liquid.

"He likes you," Sam repeated, setting his beer down and looking her straight in the eyes. "He always does stuff like that." Waved his hand in the direction where Dean stood, a shot glass in his hand, the two girls practically drooling all over his shoes. "But he genuinely likes you. I can tell."

"You know, your brother's kind of a slut," she said with a smile to cover the small pangs of jealousy she was feeling, and Sam laughed, taking another swig of his beer before returning his attention to his computer. About an hour later, Buffy was over the whole bar scene, having coaxed the tall brunette off away his computer and a few more beers into his hands, causing him to loosen up a bit and talk to her about random things, and she and Sam left the loud room, informing Dean that they were going back to the motel. This didn't seem to phase him, as he continued to talk to the now drunk girls who were hanging all over him. Following Sam back to their room, she stripped off her jacket and jeans and slid into bed, pulling the covers over her and watching as Sam undressed and got into bed next to her, wrapping his arms around her protectively and snuggling into his pillow. Closing her eyes and dozing off quickly, she awoke when Dean quietly entered the room an hour or so later, making no move to turn the lights on when he noticed that they were both sleeping. Stripping off his jacket and pants, he walked over to the occupied bed, extracting Buffy from his brother's gasp and lifting her in his arms, walking over to the empty bed and slipping under the covers. Gently laying her down, he pulled her close, covering them both with the itchy comforter and resting his lips against the back of her neck. She kept her eyes closed and quickly slipped into unconsciousness, reveling in the way his hand rested on her cotton-covered hip and his warm breath sent tingles down her spine.

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Ok, I'm aware that pretty much nothing happened in this chapter, but I felt like this was a good starting point, and to be honest, I didn't feel like writing anymore tonight, but I thought that I should post something since it's been so long. Hope you enjoyed it! Drop me a review on the way out! D


	6. Skin Part 2

Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, own neither Buffy or Supernatural. They both belong to their respective geniuses, Joss and Kripke. I'm just borrowing them for a while for my own entertainment. If the boys were mine, lemme tell ya, they wouldn't be traveling the country fighting stuff. I'd find a few uses for them in my own house... Heh, j/k (but not really). This episode is pretty word for word from the Supernatural episode "Skin." Transcripts taken from twiztv.

Thanks so much ZoiAstrea and Fun-SizedWitch for your lovely reviews! I'm glad you're liking this little series so far!

On to part 2 of "Skin!"

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She was awoken the next morning by Sam nudging a large cup of coffee into her hands and instructing her to get dressed. Sitting up and rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she gave him a grateful smile before rolling out of bed and pulling on a pair of baggy green cargo pants and a black leather jacket over her tank top. Hearing the shower running and noticing Dean's absence, she sat down in the chair by the window, waiting for him to get out of the shower so that they could go. A few minutes later, the water stopped and he emerged from the steamy bathroom, wearing only a pair of low-slung jeans. Smirking at her when she saw the way her gaze was drawn to his bare chest, he slipped on a gray t-shirt, a brown and black over shirt, and a blue jacket before accepting a cup of coffee from his brother.

"Let's go," Sam ordered, and Buffy followed the two out of the room and into the Impala, sliding into the back seat and taking a sip from her cup. A few minutest later they arrived at their destination, the drive over filled with Sam's directions and Dean's complains about being woken up so early. With a squeak of the car's door, she stepped onto the curb, noticing that they were parked behind Zack's house.

"Alright," Dean started, leaning against the hood of his car and taking a sip of his drink. "What are we doing here at five thirty in the morning?"

"I realized something," he started, dropping his empty cup into a nearby dumpster and walking closer to the house to snoop around. "The video tape shows the killer going in, but not coming out."

"So he came out the back door?" Buffy asked, covering her mouth as a particularly large yawn forced its way out of her mouth. Hopping onto the hood of the car, she crossed her legs, clutching her coffee cup and watching Sam as he kicked something on the ground in front of him.

"Right, so there should be a trail to follow. A trail the police would never pursue."

"Cause they think the killer never left," Dean added, nodding. "And they caught your friend Zack inside." There was a pause before he groaned and took a small sip from his cup. "I still don't know what we're doing here at five thirty in the morning." Rolling her eyes at him amusedly, Buffy hopped off of the hood and deposited her empty cup in the same dumpster that Sam had before walking over to him.

"Hey look," she said, noticing a phone pole with a bloody hand print and pointing at it. Sam looked over at her, walking closer to examine it.

"Blood. Somebody came this way." Dean frowned, surveying the area from where he was leaning against his baby.

"Yeah, but the trail ends. I don't see anything over here." Suddenly, an ambulance drove past them, sirens blaring, and the three exchanged a look before getting into the car and speeding after it. It stopped a few blocks away, and Dean killed the engine, following Buffy and Sam to a small crowd in front of a tall apartment building.

"What happened?" Buffy asked the pretty black woman next to her. "What's going on?"

"he tried to kill his wife," she answered, pointing to an Asian man who was being cuffed and led toward a police car. "Tied her up and beat her."

"Really?" Sam said from her side, placing a hand on the small of her back to propel her forward a few steps.

"I used to see him going to work in the morning. He'd wave, say hello. Seemed like such a nice guy." The woman lapsed into silence as the man entered the squad car, and it pulled away, speeding down the street toward the police station. Jerking her head in the direction of the car, she walked over to it, Sam right on her heels.

"Alright, so it's got to be the same thing..." Buffy started when she was out of earshot of the others. "This can't be a coincidence." A second later, Dean walked up to them, stopping next to the Slayer.

"Hey, remember when I said this wasn't our kind of problem?" he asked, and Sam nodded. "Definitely our kind of problem," he continued with a weird gesture of his hand, turning toward Buffy.

"What happened?" she asked, scooting back so that she was leaning against the side of the Impala.

"Well, I just talked to the patrolman who was first on the scene, heard this guy, Alex's story." He jerked his hand toward the front of the house before continuing. "Apparently this dude was driving home from a business trip when his wife was attacked."

"So, he was two places at one," Sam responded immediately, a thoughtful look on his face.

"Exactly!" he said, smiling excitedly at the fact that he had found out something useful. "Then he sees himself in the house, police think he's a nutjob."

"Dark doubles attacking loved ones in the exact same way..." He trailed off, trying to put the pieces together.

"Shapeshifter?" Buffy piped up, remembering something that Giles had once said about the creatures. Briefly, his face flashed behind her eyes, but she shook her head, pushing all thoughts of her previous life to the back of her mind. That wasn't a door she was willing to open just yet. "Something that can make itself look like anyone. They're human... evolved past what a normal human can do." Sam looked at her, impressed, and she gave him a small smile.

"Every culture in the world has a shapeshifter lore," Dean supplied helpfully. "You know legends of creatures who can transform themselves into animals or other men." Sam nodded, still deep in thought. "We've got two attacks within blocks of each other. I'm guessing it's the same thing that's doing it."

"C'mon," Buffy ordered, creeping closer to the house now that the police and curious onlookers had cleared the scene. Stealthily skirting around the building to the back, she quickly surveyed the area, not seeing anything out of the ordinary.

"Let me ask you this," Sam asked, clearly thinking the same thing, "in all this shapeshifter lore, can any of them fly?"

"Not that I know of," Dean answered with a frown and shrug.

"The trail suddenly ends. I mean, whatever it is just disappeared."

"Uh guys," Buffy stated, pointing toward a manhole a few feet away. "Could have gone down there." The three exchanged a look before walking over to the metal grate, Sam lifting it up before dropping into the hole and looking around. Dean jumped down to join him, but Buffy opted to stay above grown in order to warn them if anyone was coming. A few minutes later, the two resurfaced, both with disgusted looks on their faces. "What?"

"It sheds." Dean didn't move to elaborate, and she raised an eyebrow at him. Whatever was down there must have been pretty gross if it could phase him. She gave Sam a concerned look at his look of nausea, but he waved a hand at her, letting her know that he would be fine. Following the brothers back to the car, she watched as Dean opened the secret compartment in the trunk before filling three cartridges with...

"Silver bullets?" she asked, and Dean nodded, sliding the cartridge into a small handgun and handing it back to her, his head still buried in the trunk. She raised an eyebrow at him before taking it hesitantly.

"One thing I learned from Dad... No matter what kind of shapeshifter it is, there's one sure way to kill it."

"Silver bullet to the heart," Sam answered, nodding. Just then, his phone rang and he fished it out of his front pocket before giving them a "just a second" gesture and answering it.

"Um, Dean?" He looked up from his trunk so that he could look at her. "You know that me and guns are unmixy. I'll probably end up shooting you or Sam instead of the shapeshifter." He let out a small chuckle before reaching a hand out to tuck a strand of blond hair behind her ear that the wind had blown into her face.

"You'll be fine. You have that whole Slayer thing going on for ya." She made to argue, but was only able to nod, completely caught up in the moment they were having. Until she heard Rebecca practically yelled at Sam through the phone.

"Well, look, Sam, just stop. Cause I really don't need your help anymore." Buffy frowned, walking over to where the younger Winchester was standing a few feet away so that she could hear the girl better.

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked, furrowing his brows in confusion and shrugging when Buffy tilted her head to the side, wondering what was going on.

"I told the lawyers that we went to the crime scene." The Slayer's eyes widened in shock, and Sam let out a nervous laugh. This couldn't end well.

"Why would you do that?" The blond rolled her eyes. Great. Make _her_ feel like she had done something wrong. Good plan, Sam. Just brilliant.

"Well," came the other girl's voice, "I told them that we were with a police officer. And they checked it out, and they told me that there is no Detective Dean Winchester."

"Bec-..." Sam started, but was quickly cut off.

"No! I don't understand why you would lie to me about something like that!"

"We're trying to help-..." he tried again, but was once again interrupted by the fuming blond on the other end of the line.

"Oh, trying to help?" she practically yelled, causing Sam to wince and hold the phone away from his ear. "Do you realize that that was a sealed crime scene? This could just have ruined Zack's case!"

"Bec, I'm sorry, but..." Again he was interrupted. Buffy could tell he was getting frustrated.

"No! Goodbye, Sam." The brunet frowned as she hung up on him, and Dean walked over, clapping a hand on his disappointed brother's shoulder.

"I hate to say it, but that's exactly what I'm talkin' about."

"Dean," Buffy warned, but he ignored her and kept going.

"You lie to your friends because if they knew the real you, they'd be freaked. It's just – it's be easier if-..."

"If I was like you," Sam finished with a frown, glancing over at the tiny blond standing next to him.

"Hey, man, like it or not, we are not like other people," Dean continued, but Buffy shook her head.

"I wouldn't be alive if it wasn't for my friends," she said, giving him a look. "Not just this time. They've saved my life more times than I can even remember."

"Well, you were different," he argued, causing her to roll her eyes at his persistence. "You were friends with two Slayers, a Watcher, a witch, a werewolf... We didn't have anyone who understood us." Buffy made to argue right back but instead shook her head and threw her arms up into the air, deciding that it wasn't worth it. "But I'll tell you one thing," he added, turning toward Sam. "This whole gig... it ain't without perks." Giving his little brother a smirk, he handed him a gun of his own, and Buffy watched as he slipped it into the waistband of his jeans, careful to hide it under his jacket, before following him and Dean to the manhole around the back of the house and down the ladder. She made a face at the wet concrete floor and distinct sewer smell, watching as the boys took out their flashlights. That was the life of a Slayer; crawling around in filthy sewers to find clues. At least she didn't need a flashlight.

"I think we're close to its lair," Dean announced after over an hour of searching. An hour of smelly green sewer water, moldy stone walls, and rats. Dean had freaked out at the first rat they had seen, jumping backwards and screaming like a girl, sending both Buffy and Sam into a fit of giggles, which Sam would vehemently deny when asked about it later, that lasted several minutes. Buffy sighed. Finally. It seemed like they had been walking for miles.

"Why do you say that?" Sam asked, holding his flashlight close to his face and squinting into the darkness, pointing his gun in front of him and trying to see what Dean was seeing.

"Because there's another puke-inducing pile next to your face." The younger Winchester looked to the right before jerking back a foot or so and smacking into Buffy, who jumped back in surprise.

"Oh, God!" Following his gaze to the large pipe attached to the wall at eye-level, a look of utter disgust slid over her face when she saw the large pile of skin and fat.

"Ew... Ew ew." Dean gave her an "yeah, I know," look before re-raising his flashlight and scouring the area.

"Looks like it's lived here for a while," he observed, gesturing toward a pile of clothes and yet another blob of the thing's _shedings_ with his gun.

"Who knows how many murders he's gotten away with..." Sam pondered, and Buffy glanced back at Dean, her eyes widening when she saw the Asian man they had seen being escorted from his apartment a few hours ago directly behind him, his eyes flickering in the light of Sam's raised flashlight.

"Dean! Watch out!" she yelled, but it was too late. In the blink of an eye, the shapeshifter had sent a punch to his jaw before turning tail and running away, effectively evading the few shots that Sam fired. Knowing that he would be able to take care of his brother without her assistance, the Slayer sprinted after it, rounding the corner only to see its feet disappear above ground through another manhole. Quickly scaling the ladder, she emerged from the sewer, looking around but seeing no trace of the shapeshifter. Night had fallen and there were several people milling about on the street, some hand in hand, others hurrying home in time for dinner. "Shit!" she swore, feeling, rather than seeing, Sam and Dean come up behind her.

"Anything?" Sam asked, and she shook her head, frustrated. "All right, let's split up." With a nod, Buffy headed off to the right, leaving the brothers to find their own way. Slipping inconspicuously into a large group, she swept the deserted side streets and alleys, not finding so much as a footprint to point to where the shapeshifter had gone. She wandered around for a while longer, keeping her eyes peeled for any signs of the baddie she had been chasing, before pulling out her cell phone and seeing that it had been almost an hour. An hour without any word from Sam _or_ Dean. Well, that couldn't be good. Flipping the phone open, she pressed speed dial number 2, Dean's cell, and waited a few seconds with the phone pressed to her ear, breathing a sigh of relief when he answered.

"Buffy?" But they _were_ chasing a shapeshifter, after all.

"How did you meet me?" she asked, knowing that only Dean and Sam would know the answer to that question.

"What?" came his confused reply, but she refused to buckle.

"How did you meet me?" There was a moment of silence before he answered.

"We were passing through... Sunnydale, I think, on a job. Found you cowering in an alley... You had just been brought back from... wherever you were." She looked down. She had never told them. They'd done so much for her, but she just couldn't bring herself to tell them where she had been. Where she'd been ripped away from. "You didn't want to go back to your friends, so we took you with us." He was right. Her eyes glazed over for a few seconds as her brain relived the memory, but she quickly snapped out of it, nodding before realizing that he couldn't see her.

"Alright," she said, looking around for any sign of him. "No point in chancing it. Where are you guys?"

"We followed the thing to Rebecca's place, but it got away before we could kill it," he answered, once again snapping into business mode. "We think it was trying to hurt her because it knew that she sent us after it. We're over here checking on her at the moment."

"Oh, alright."

"The motel's not too far from where we split up," he continued, and Buffy looked around, recognizing where she was. It was about ten minutes or so to the left. Silently thanking the Powers that Be for Slayer direction, another one of the many perks of her line of work, she started off in that direction. "Why don't you grab something to eat and head back. I should be back in an hour or so."

"Okay," she agreed, veering to the opposite side of the street to enter a small diner. She hadn't noticed how hungry she had been, but now that she knew that the two were safe, it seemed to catch up with her.

"Gotta go. She's yelling at Sam."

"Alright, I'll see you soon." Smiling slightly at the image of Dean running interference between Rebecca and his little brother, she snapped her phone closed, slipping it into her front jeans pocket and ordering a burger to go. A few minutes later, she was on her way back to the motel, a small brown paper bag clutched in her hand, the smell of her burger and fries making her stomach growl. Approaching their room, she fished the key out of her pocket, sliding it into the lock and pushing the door open, before dropping her food onto the small table and peeled off her jacket, throwing it onto her bed before sitting down in the slightly uncomfortable chair. After polishing off her impromptu dinner, she stripped off her clothes and walked into the bathroom, knowing that she had time to take a shower before Dean got there. Stepping under the hot spray, she started to hum an old Metallica song she had heard the previous day in the Impala, and quickly stopped herself, shaking her head amusedly. Apparently Dean's music had found a way to seep into her brain. Washing her hair and body, still feeling slightly unclean because she had been walking through the sewer all day, she stepped out, gasping softly as the cool air bathed over her flushed skin. She wrapped herself in a fluffy white towel and reentered the bedroom, just barely pulling on a pair of jeans, one of Sam's shirt, which was insanely big on her, but comfortable all the same, and a comfortable pair of sneakers before Dean walked in.

"Hey," he greeted, shooting her his trademark grin to which she responded with a smile of her own. "We explained to Rebecca about the shapeshifter. She was worried that it might come back, so Sam's going to spend the night with her." He smirked, picturing his little brother with his college buddy and sliding his jacket and over shirt from his shoulders. "I'm gonna go take a shower. Get the sewer smell off of me."

"Alright." Watching as he disappeared through the bathroom door and the water turned on, she sat down on her bed and leaned up against the headboard after fluffing up the pillows. A few minutes passed, and she fidgeted, her nervous energy catching up with her. She was bored. She hadn't Slayed anything in days, and it was getting to her. "Dean?" Buffy called, walking over to the thin wooden door and rapping on it with her knuckles.

"Yeah?" he called back over the spray of the water.

"I'm going to go kill some stuff," she informed him. "Haven't dusted any vamps in a while, and it's making me all fidgety. I'll be back in half an hour or so."

"Yeah alright," came his reply. Not bothering to put on a jacket, she grabbed a few stakes and the room key, sliding the key into her pocket and tucking the stakes in the waistband of her jeans, and headed off into the darkness, easily fining the nearest cemetery. She circled it a few times, finding no signs of evil, but on the third lap, she saw a newly-risen vampire clawing its way out of a freshly covered grave. "Yahtzee." She frowned a few seconds later, having dusted it in one try. It hadn't even put up a fight. Darn. She circled the graveyard once more, getting slightly annoyed at the energy buzzing through her veins, finally calling it a night fifteen minutes later. Reentering the hotel room, she saw Dean laying on the bed she had previously been occupying, clad in only a pair of dark jeans. _Yum_, her mind supplied.

"Hey," he greeted, looking up from where he was flipping through John's journal. "Find anything nasty to slay?" She sighed and flopped down on the end of the bed, looking at him upside down through her eyelashes.

"Noooo," she pouted, causing him to smirk at her and drop the journal on the bedside table. "Well, there was one, but it didn't even put up a fight." He laughed and shooched closer to her, dropping a chase kiss on her lips in a perfect imitation of the Spiderman kiss. "Now I have all this energy, and I don't know what to do with it."

"I think I have an idea," he teased, causing Buffy to laugh lightly as he swept her up in his arms and placed her gently on his lap. They hadn't had alone time since that first night, and she was fully planning on taking advantage of it. For some inexpiable reason, she knew that she could trust him with her life, something that she rarely came across in her line of work. Sure, she was attracted to him. He was absolutely gorgeous. She liked him, but that wasn't the only reason. Since being ripped from Heaven, every day was a struggle. Some days, she would lay in bed, staring into the darkness and thinking about how her life had been. She had friends, a family, a _boyfriend_. And that had been ripped away from her. A small part of her knew that she had to go back, but she quickly squashed it, knowing that she wouldn't be able to handle it. The responsibility, the security. That wasn't her anymore. Since taking to the road with the brothers, she had found a whole new part of herself. It was easier. Only two people counted on her, and they were perfectly capable of taking care of themselves. Even then, even with her new life, she found herself gazing at the guns and knives packed into the trunk of the Impala. Every time she found herself in a dangerous situation, she thought for a split second before pulling herself out of harm's way. Sometimes, when she was in the shower, she debated laying down in the tub and letting the water fill her lungs. She never thought these things for more than a few moments, but every day, she thought about how much easier it would be if she were back in Heaven. Most days, the only thing that pulled the doubt from her mind was Dean. Every time he held her, touched her, even _looked_ at her, it made her rethink her life. And every time she did this, she decided that she wanted to be right here with him.

All these thoughts flew right out of her head the second his lips closed over hers. Turning her on his lap so that she was straddling him, he pulled the oversized t-shirt over her head, his hands hands making a beeline for her hips and his lips once again closing over hers the second the fabric had cleared her face. Rolling her over, he dropped a trail of feather-light kisses down her jawline, neck, and torso, unbuttoning and unzipping her jeans with a flick of his wrist. He slowly slid them down her slender hips and muscled legs, his lips following closely behind, causing her to gasp softly at the contact. As soon as he dropped her discarded jeans on the floor, she pulled him back up, tugging softly on his trademark necklace in order to pull him down for another searing kiss.

--

"Can I ask you a question?" Dean muttered softly, his hand easily threading through the long blond hair that was splayed out over his chest. He was laying in bed on his back with his arm wrapped around her slender form, and she was curled up by his side, her head and hand resting on his slightly moist chest. She made a small sound, which he took to mean "yes" and smiled, dropping a kiss to the top of her head. "When we..." he hesitated, seemingly to work out how he wanted to ask her, "found you... Why did you decide to come with us?" She was silent for a minute, debating how much she wanted to divulge, before answering.

"When I was brought back," she started, equally as softly, "I think they thought that I was in hell. I wasn't. I just... couldn't go back there. It wasn't my life anymore." She made no move to elaborate, and he made no move to push her. The two sat in silence for a while, both thinking about her answer, before Dean's stomach let out a loud growl. "Hungry?" she teased lightly, looking up at him and smiling. He chuckled softly before kissing her. The tension had dissipated, and for that, Buffy was grateful.

"I'm gonna go get something to eat," he informed her, kissing her deeply before sliding out of bed. Watching interestedly as he pulled on his boxers and jeans, she followed, tugging on her discarded panties and Sam's shirt. "You want anything?"

"Nah," she replied with a small smile. "You go ahead. I just ate."

"Alright, I'll be ba-..." He was interrupted by the front door slamming open, and Buffy's gaze shot to the entrance, only to see Sam and Dean standing there with their guns raised.

"What the fu-...?" In a split second, the Dean she had just slept with had grabbed her and backed up against the wall, having grabbed her forgotten gun and pointing it at her head. "Oh, you have _got_ to be kidding me." She could have had him off of her and on his back in three second flat, but she knew that he had no qualms about blowing her brains out all over the ugly wallpaper, so she kept still and hoped that the boys could handle this.

"Let her go!" the real!Dean barked, but shapeshifter!Dean stood his ground.

"Put them down, or else I'll shoot your pretty little girlfriend in the head."

"No! Shoot him!" Buffy ordered, but shapeshifter!Dean tightened his grip on her neck, effectively cutting off her air supply.

"She is pretty, isn't she," he taunted, licking a small patch of skin on her neck, causing her to flinch and Dean to narrow his eyes and adjust his grip on the gun. "And an amazing fuck. I mean, I knew she had those Slayer muscles, but _man_, I didn't know they were _everywhere_." Dean's eyes flickered to her before snapping back to his twin's.

"You're lying," he growled. Sam didn't seem as sure.

"Oh am I?" His eyes lowered to his hips, and sure enough, a thigh-sized bruise stood out against his pale skin. Real!Dean caught her eye, and she stared right back, silently telling him what to do. He shook his head. No, he wouldn't.

"Dean, do it!" she managed to gasp out.

"No!"

"Do it now!" she yelled, and after a second's hesitation, Dean pulled the trigger, sending a silver bullet through her shoulder and straight into the shapeshifter's heart. She launched herself to the side, clutching her shoulder and wincing as she slammed onto the itchy carpet, and Dean pumped a few extra rounds into the thing for good measure. In a second, Sam was at her side, holding a shirt to her shoulder to stem the bleeding, and Dean had walked over to his imitator and was staring down at it with a dark look on his face. In a blink of an eye, it was gone, and he had kneeled next to her, taking her face into his hands. "See? I knew it would work," she said weakly, and he gathered her up in his arms, barking at Sam to gather their things. A few minutes later, they were speeding down the road to Rebecca's house.

"Buffy!" he yelled as her eyes fluttered shut, and she snapped them open again in surprise. "Stay with me!" His face continued to blur around the edges, and a few seconds later, darkness overtook her.

--

Buffy and Dean stood by the Impala while Sam said goodbye to Rebecca. The bullet had been extracted and Sam had bandaged the wound, slapping her hands away when she protested, telling him that it would heal on its own in a couple of days. Dean looked at her and coughed before starting to fidget slightly.

"So, It's true." It wasn't a question.

"Yes," she answered, looking straight into his hazel eyes. She had mixed feelings about the whole incident. A part of her, the significantly larger part was livid. Both at herself and that _thing_. There was a bit of disgust thrown in there as well. But the other part of her didn't really care. When he, no it, had kissed her, wrapped its arms around her, held her... It had made her feel alive. Safe. _Loved_. 'That's what you wanted,' the reasonable part of her argued, and she sighed. Concentrating on the man standing in front of her, she could practically see the gears turning in his head. He was pissed, and he had a right to be.

"How wa-..." His mouth snapped shut as Sam appeared at his side, and both he and Buffy sent Rebecca a small wave before she disappeared back into her house. "So, what about your friend, Zack?" Sam looked between the two for a moment, knowing that he had interrupted something, before answering.

"Cops are blaming this Dean Winchester guy for Emily's murder." He shot his brother a small smile. "They found the murder weapon in the guy's lair, Zack's clothes stained with her blood. Now they're thinking maybe the surveillance tape _was_ tampered with. Yeah, Becca says Zack will be released soon." He smiled again and got into the car, Dean and Buffy following him. Quickly strapping herself in, she looked out the window and leaned her head against the headrest, closing her eyes as Dean started the car and pulled out onto the open road.

--

Well that's it for now! Hope y'all liked it! I know there wasn't really any aftermath of Dean shooting our favorite Slayer or her sleeping with shapeshifter!Dean, but not to worry, these things will be addressed in later chapters. Also, I'm taking a few liberties with the timeline, because in the episode, it went from 5am til dark in the blink of an eye. I didn't know how to fix this, so I just ignored it.

Anyways, hope you liked! Drop me a review on your way out!


	7. Home Part 1

Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, own neither Buffy or Supernatural. They both belong to their respective geniuses, Joss and Kripke. I'm just borrowing them for a while for my own entertainment. If the boys were mine, lemme tell ya, they wouldn't be traveling the country fighting stuff. I'd find a few uses for them in my own house... Heh, j/k (but not really). This episode is pretty word for word from the Supernatural episode "Home." Transcripts taken from twiztv.

Sorry it took so long to get this out. I simply lost interest in this story for a while. In all of my fics, actually. But hopefully I've kicked my muse into gear!

Thanks to ZoiAstrea, dreaming.sapphire, Princessakarlita411, dhfreak06, redandyellowmarshmellow, dkwr07, enchanged nightengale, and Supreme-Writer for your lovely reviews! Glad you're liking them so far, and keep 'em coming!

On with the story!

--

"Alright," Dean started. He was seated at the small table by the window, his fingers flying over the keyboard of Sam's laptop. Say was reclined on the bed with a pen and notepad in his hand, and Buffy was sprawled out at the foot of the bed with a newly whittled pile of stakes at her side. She looked up when Dean started talking, but Sam remained entranced by his drawing. Inconspicuously glancing in his direction, the Slayer saw that he was drawing a picture of a tree. With a curious tilt of her head, she returned her attention to the older Winchester. "I've been cruisin' some websites. I think I found a few candidates for our next gig. A fishing trawler found off the coast of Cali… Its crew vanished." Buffy made a face. She was in no hurry to go back to California. "And, uh, we got some cattle mutilations in West Texas." He looked up from the screen to see Sam still immersed in his drawing. "Hey! Am I boring you with this hunting evil stuff?" The blond turned her head to see Sam looking up at them with a hand-caught-in-the-cookie-jar expression.

"No. I'm listening. Keep going." Dean gave him a suspicious look, but continued anyways.

"And here, a Sacramento man show himself in the head. Three times." He looked up to see Sam once again staring down at his paper and waved his hand to get his brother's attention. "Any of these things blowin' up your skirt, pal?" Buffy shot Dean an annoyed look and tried the more sensitive approach.

"Sam? You alright? What's wrong?" Dropping her knife and half-whittled stake onto the scratchy beige comforter, she crawled up the bed and sat down next to him.

"I've seen this," Sam muttered more to himself than to Buffy, his eyes still glued to the pad of paper.

"Seen what?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?" Without answering, Sam got up from the bed, leaving a curious Buffy staring after him, and crossed the room to root through his duffel bag. "What are you doing?"

"Sam?" Ignoring both Buffy and his brother, he continued to search, finally extracting an old photo that depicted a man, woman, and two boys in front of a white house. Min-Sam and Dean. Sitting back down on the bed, he grabbed the pad of paper and held it up to the photo. Both Buffy and Dean scooted closer to him, waiting, impatiently in Dean's case, for an explanation. Looking at the two objects, the Slayer realized that he was comparing the tree in the picture to the tree that he had drawn.

"I know where we have to go next."

"Where?" came Dean's confused question.

"Back home… Back to Kansas" A strange expression crossed Dean's face, and Buffy raised an eyebrow, wondering what caused that particular reaction. Had something happened there that they hadn't told her? However, in the blink of an eye, he managed to school his expression back to a small smirk.

"Okay, random. Where did that come from?" Buffy kept silent, sensing that this was going to be stressful enough without her butting in and asking questions.

"Alright, um…" Sam trailed off, showing his brother the picture and his drawing. "This photo was taken in front of our hold house, right? The house where Mom died."

"Yeah," came Dean's curt response. The blond watched nervously as his expression hardened, but made no move to comfort him. Things had been tense between them since the incident with the shape shifter. Although it hadn't been her fault, and she had had no idea that it wasn't him, he was extremely upset and hurt that she had slept with another man. It was irrational, they all knew it, but even now, weeks later, she could still feel the jealousy and resentment rolling off of him in waves. His inability to forgive her, though she in no way felt that she owed him an apology of any kind, and standoffishness had caused both of them to become increasingly snappy and impatient with each other, and Sam was usually the one caught in the crossfire. It was a battle of passive aggressiveness, and neither of them was winning. To be honest, she had been enjoying Sam's company far more than Dean's lately.

"And it didn't burn down, right? I mean, not completely. They rebuilt it, right?" Dean nodded.

"I guess so, yeah. What the hell are you talkin' about?" Buffy waited patiently, wanting just as badly as Dean to know what was up but feeling like it wasn't her place to pry. There was obviously something going on that she didn't understand, and they would tell her when the time was right.

"Okay, look, this is gonna sound crazy, but… the people who live in our old house… I think they might be in danger." Sam was starting to grow increasingly more uncomfortable, and Buffy slid her hand into his in a gesture of comfort. Sam smiled down at her, and though she pretended not to notice it, she saw that Dean's eyes narrowed slightly at their close proximity.

"Why would you think that?" he asked, forcing himself to look back at his brother.

"Uh… It's just… um… look. Just trust me on this, okay?" Gently extracting his hand from Buffy's, he stood up and started toward the bathroom, but Dean was right behind him, stopping him before he could get more than two feet.

"Wait, whoa, whoa, trust you?"

"Yeah," came Sam's short answer.

"Come on, man, that's weak. You gotta give me a bit more than that," Dean ordered, clearly impatient.

"I can't really explain it is all." Sam was becoming more and more uncomfortable by the moment, and Buffy sat up a bit straighter, ready to run interference if things got too intense.

"Well, tough!" Dean was getting angry now. "I'm not going anywhere until you do!" Buffy had had enough. Standing up, she forced herself between the two brothers and glared up at Dean.

"That's enough! Can't you see that he's uncomfortable? Back off!" Her emotions had gotten the better of her, and although her voice was not any louder than usual, her tone conveyed her anger and annoyance perfectly.

"This is none of your business! Who do you think you are butting into our-…" But before things could escalate any further, Sam stepped in, grabbing Buffy around the waist and setting her down on the bed and pushing Dean back into his previously occupied chair.

"Stop it, you two," he ordered, grabbing the furious Slayer and effortlessly pulling her into his lap. She didn't struggle, completely comfortable in Sam's arms, but continued to glare daggers at her former lover. "That's enough. I know a lot of shit happened back in Missouri, but there's nothing we can do about it now. Dean, you need to get past it. All you're doing is driving a wedge between the three of us with your jealousy issues. And Buffy, you need to calm down. Understand that it was hard for him to see you with… him."

"But I didn't kno-" she started to argue, but Sam cut her off.

"I know you didn't know, but even so. Wouldn't you be upset if Dean slept with another girl, even if he thought it was you?"

"Not like my feelings keep him from sleeping with other girls," she muttered, and a muscle in Dean's jaw twitched. Ever since "the incident", as they called it, she had watched Dean flirt and go home with a new girl every night. But both their expression softened at Sam's guilty wince. There was no reason to bring that up now. Buffy and Dean nodded, content to drop it for now. However, all three of them knew that Buffy and Dean would once again be at each other's throats when they hit another bump in the road.

"Now. Do you want to hear what's going on?" he asked, and the other two nodded. Then, a if someone had flicked a switch, his expression once again settled into one of discomfort. "I… have these nightmares."

"I've noticed," Dean answered, his tone still slightly tense, and Buffy nodded in agreement. Almost every night Sam woke gasping and sweating, and it took one of them several minutes to calm him down enough to allow him to go back to sleep.

"And sometimes…" he continued, "they come true." There was a moment of silence as Buffy and Dean processed this information.

"Come again?" Dean asked at the same time Buffy asked, "You have visions?"

"Visions?" Dean asked, obviously extremely confused.

"Visions," the Slayer repeated, tapping into her inner Giles. "Seeing things before they happen. I get them. Part of the Slayer package. Things that the Powers that Be want me to stop from happening… to fix somehow… or just to inform me about." Sam nodded.

"Look, Dean, I dreamt about Jessica's death. For days before it happened." Dean shook his head, clearly unwilling to believe this.

"Sam, people have weird dreams, man. I'm sure it's just a coincidence. I mean… Buffy has them because she's the Slayer, right? You're just a regular guy."

"No, I dreamt about the blood dripping, her on the ceiling, the fire, everything. And I didn't do anything about it 'cause I didn't believe it. I didn't know." His voice was guilty, and Buffy frowned at his obvious pain.

"Sam, you couldn't have know," she said soothingly and leaning back against him. "It's not something that many people can do. You had no way to know that it wasn't just a nightmare. It's not your fault." He smiled more for her benefit than hers and sighed, nodding. Of course he didn't believe it, but Buffy let it go, knowing that she wasn't going to get anywhere.

"And now I'm dreaming about that tree," he continued as if nothing had happened. "About our house, and about some woman inside screaming for help. I mean, that's where it all started, man. This has to mean something, right?

"I don't know," Dean admitted in an uncertain voice. He was obviously overwhelmed by the fact that both his little brother and object of his affection had the power to see things before they happened.

"What do you mean you don't know, Dean?" Sam asked, his eyebrow furrowing in confusion, clearly concerned for his brother's sanity. Buffy looked on in silence, resting her head against Sam's chest, and waiting for the conversation to move along. "This woman might be in danger! I mean, this might even be the thing that killed Mom and Jessica!" He was getting worked up, which in turn made Dean start to fidget.

"Aright, just slow down, would ya," he ordered, sounding calmer than he looked, as at that moment, he stood up and started pacing the length of the room in tight circles. After a few seconds of watching him, Buffy started to get dizzy and had to look away, instead contenting herself by closing her eyes and concentrating on the rise and fall of Sam's chest. "I mean, first you tell me that you've got the Shining… Both of you! And then you tell me that I've gotta go back home? Especially when-…" He paused, and the Slayer opened her eyes to see what was up.

"When what?" Sam prompted. It was a few seconds before the older Winchester answered.

"When I swore to myself that I would never go back there." His voice was quiet and full of pain, and Buffy immediately got to her feet, sensing the tension that only his brother could fix. Excusing herself and disappearing into the bathroom, she took her time washing her hands and face and brushing her hair. She emerged a few minutes later, and thankfully, the two seemed to have resolved their issues. Sam was shrugging on his jacket, and Dean was standing by the door, ready to go. "We're gonna go check out the house," he informed her in a tight voice, handing her her favorite leather jacket. She took it with a small smile, and followed him out to the car with Sam trailing along behind her. He was trying, and there was no reason for her not to. The drive was made in complete silence on their part, the only noise being the blasting music echoing through the car and shaking the frame. Several ear-splitting minutes later, Dean pulled up in front of a large white house and parked. Buffy could feel the tension build as the two brothers sat unmovingly looking at the house, and her gaze nervously flickered back and forth between them.

"You gonna be alright, man?" Sam asked softly, and Dean made a face.

"Let me get back to you on that," he muttered, and pushed himself out of the car. Sliding across the leather and out the rear door, Buffy followed obediently, giving him a reassuring smile that he half-returned. The three stopped in front of the door, and Sam took a deep breath before knocking loudly. There was no answer for a few seconds, but then suddenly, a pretty blond woman in her mid-thirties answered the door with a curious smile. Noticing the way that Sam's eyes widened slightly when he saw the woman, obviously shocked that it was the same woman he had seen in his dream, Buffy discretely took his hand in hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. His eyes returned to normal, and he smiled at the woman.

"Yes?" she asked, still looking at them curiously.

"Sorry to bother you, ma'am," Dean started, his voice professional. Only Buffy and Sam could tell that he was nervous as hell. "We're with the Federa-…"

"I'm Sam Winchester," Sam cut him off, deciding that playing the Federal Marshal card probably wouldn't be the best in this situation, "this is my brother, Dean, and this is Buffy, and old family friend." The woman's gaze shifted to her, and she gave her a small wave. "We used to live here. You know, we were just driving by, and we were wondering if we could see the old place." The woman nodded, suddenly friendlier.

"Winchester. Yeah, that's so funny. You know, I think I found some of your photos the other night."

"You did?" asked Dean, curiously, and the woman nodded.

"Come on in," she offered, holding the door open for them. "Oh, I'm Jenny by the way." The three chorused their hellos and followed her into the house. The second Buffy stepped over the threshold, her Slayer senses went haywire. She looked up at Dean, who had been staring down at her expectantly, and nodded. She saw the muscle in Sam's jaw tighten, but he said nothing, instead following Jenny into the kitchen and motioning for Buffy and Dean to do the same. A little girl was sitting at the kitchen table doing homework, and a little boy no older than two was standing up and holding onto the bars of his playpen.

" Juice! Juice! Juice! Juice!" the little boy chanted, bouncing up and down and extending his arms in the direction of the fridge.

"That's Ritchie," Jenny informed them, taking a sippy cut out of the refrigerator and crossing the room to hand it to her son. "He's kind of a juice junkie. But, hey, at least he won't get dirty." Quickly downing the entire cup in a few seconds, he dropped it to the ground and held out his arms toward Buffy. Somewhat startled, she looked over at Jenny, who, though she looked puzzled, nodded her consent at the Slayer touching her child. Shrugging at Sam and Dean, who were watching her with confused expressions, she walked over to Ritchie and picked him up. He immediately latched his arms around her neck and his legs around her waist. Little kids had always had an attraction to her. Must be that they could feel her power and knew that she could protect them. Not that she minded. Their minds and souls were so pure, and after seeing all that she had in her short life, it was somewhat refreshing.

"Hey, sweetie," she cooed softly, wrapping her arms around his waist and walking back over to the table where everyone was now seated. "How are you?" But the little boy simply buried his face into the crook of her neck and didn't answer. Smiling softly, she sat down between Sam and Dean, watching as they continued to talk.

"Sari, this is Sam, Dean, and Buffy. They used to live here," Jenny was saying.

"Hey, Sari," Sam greeted. Dean waved awkwardly at the little girl, and Buffy extracted her hand from around the squirming two-year old in her lap for long enough to give her a wave of her own.

"Hi," Sari replied before turning her attention back to her homework.

"So, you just moved in?" Dean asked, creating a segue into the reason they were there. Ritchie grabbed a handful of Buffy's hair and tugged on it lightly, causing her to smile and look down at him. She adjusted him so that he was sitting on her lap, content on playing with her long blond hair while she focused her attention on Jenny.

"Yeah, from Wichita."

"Do you have family here?" Buffy asked gently, not wanting it to seem like she was prying. Jenny didn't seem to notice and shook her head. A particularly hard tug on her hair had the Slayer glancing down to see Ritchie grabbing a large chunk with both hands and clumsily attempting to run it through his fingers.

"No. I just, uh… needed a fresh start, that's all." Buffy nodded and got up, and with some difficulty, managed to wrestle Ritchie back into his playpen. He pouted for a few seconds, but she kissed him on the forehead, and a moment later, he was in the far corner playing with some of his stuffed animals. As adorable as he was, he was quite distracting when she was trying to obtain information. "…As soon as I find one. New house," Jenny was explaining as the blond once again sat down between the two brothers.

"So, how you liking it so far?" Sam prodded when she made no move to continue.

"Well, uh, all due respect to your childhood home," the woman started, clearly nervous that she would offend them, "I mean, I'm sure you had lots of happy memories here…" Dean smiled weakly, and Buffy shot him a sympathetic look. "But this place has its issues."

"What do you mean?" came Sam's response. His eyes were once again starting to widen at the possible confirmation that his vision was really coming true.

"Well, it's just getting old," Jenny said, the left side of her mouth pulling down into a delicate frown. "Like the wiring, you know? We've got flickering lights almost hourly." Glancing a look at Sam, Buffy saw that his eyes were almost as wide as they would go, and she kicked him discretely, causing him to snap back to attention. Seeing that his brother was somewhat occupied, Dean continued.

"Oh, that's too bad. What else?"

"Um…" Jenny thought for a second. "Sink's backed up, there's rats in the basement." She paused and shook her head before continuing. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to complain." Dean shook her head as well, but his was to wave her apology aside.

"No." Then, a second later, he was back in business mode. "Have you seen the rats, or have you just heard scratching?"

"It's just the scratching, actually."

"Mom?" Sari piped up, and all heads turned in her direction. "Ask them if it was here when they lived here."

"If what was here, sweetheart?" Buffy asked, tilting her head to the side.

"The thing in my closet," Sari supplied helpfully. Buffy frowned, and out of the corners of her eyes, she could she Sam and Dean exchanging looks.

"Oh, no, baby," Jenny cooed, instantly snapping into comforting mode. "There was nothing in their closets." She looked at Sam and Dean for help. "Right?"

"Right," Sam replied after a second. "No," he added with more conviction, "no, of course not."

"What did you see, Sari?" Buffy asked curiously, and the little girl opened her mouth to respond before her mom cut her off.

"She had a nightmare the other night."

"I wasn't dreaming!" she insisted, looking up at Buffy with wide, begging eyes. "It came into my bedroom… and it was on fire!" At this, the Slayer felt a jolt in her stomach and looking over at Sam and Dean, saw that their faces showed extreme shock as well. A few long seconds later, Buffy stepped in and politely excused herself and the Winchesters, saying that they had somewhere important to be. Thanking Jenny for her hospitality, she nudged the boys to their feet, and with a chorus of goodbyes, they left the house and headed toward the car, making sure that she had closed the door behind them before starting to discuss what they had just learned.

"You hear that?" Sam asked the second they were all safely in the car, and Dean started up his baby and pulled away from the curb. "A figure on fire."

"And that woman, Jenny… that was the woman in your dreams?" Dean asked hesitantly, clearly not wanting to believe it.

"Yeah." Sam nodded, and Dean made a face. "And you hear what she was talking about? Scratching, flickering lights? Both signs of a malevolent spirit." Buffy thought for a moment before jumping in.

"I don't know… Whatever was in there… Something was definitely pissed. But something was… canceling it out. Controlling it somehow." She frowned, trying to make sense of something like this. She had never encountered anything like it before. Thoughtful silence filled the car, and of course, Dean was the first to break it.

"Yeah, well, I'm just freaked out that your weirdo visions are comin' true." This was directed at Sam, who was clearly starting to panic.

"Well, forget about that for a minute!" His eyes were almost twice as wide as normal, and Buffy looked on with morbid fascination as he started to flap his arms about as best he could in the cramped car. "The thing in the house, do you think it's the same thing that killed Mom and Jessica?" His anxiousness caused Dean to panic as well. He too started to gesture wildly, something that was extremely dangerous because he was driving.

"I don't know!"

"I mean, has it come back, or has it been here the whole time?" Sam started again, and looking at an extremely overwhelmed Dean, Buffy stepped in.

"Guys, you need to calm down," she ordered, her voice calm and collected. "It's not doing us any good for you two to get all worked up." Her words seemed to have somewhat of an effect on the two brothers, and they turned to look at her, seemingly calmer than before. "Now, we have no idea if it's the same thing. Maybe it's something else entirely. We don't have enough information to know."

"Well, those people are in danger," Sam answered resolutely. Buffy had a 'well, duh' moment, but chose not to share it. The situation was tense enough without her adding her comments. "We have to get 'em out of that house!"

"And we will," the Slayer agreed before he could get himself all worked up again.

"And how you gonna do that, huh?" Dean snapped at them. He was clearly upset, so Buffy decided not to fight back, but she narrowed her eyes at him to tell him to back off. "You got a story that she's gonna believe?"

"Then what are we supposed to do?" Sam shot back, and Buffy was relieved to see that Dean had pulled into a gas station and killed the engine.

"We just gotta chill out, that's all," Dean said, getting out of the car with Sam and Buffy on his heels. It was almost painful to watch him try and calm himself down. "Just like Buffy said. You know, if this was any other kind of job, what would we do."

"Try and figure out what was in that house," Buffy supplied helpfully. "Find out what we're dealing with."

"We'd dig into the history of the house," Sam added, and Dean nodded, walking toward the pumps to slide the gas nozzle into his car.

"Exactly, except this time, we already know what happened."

"Yeah," Sam said thoughtfully, "but how much do we know? I mean, how much do you actually remember?"

"About that night, you mean?" Dean asked, clearly uncomfortable at where this conversation was going. Sam nodded. "Not much. I remember the fire… the heat." He paused for a second before continuing. "And then, I carried you out the front door."

"You did?" Sam asked, clearly surprised.

"Yeah, what, you never knew that?" There was a defensive edge to his answer, and Sam backed off a bit, shaking his head. Buffy looked on uncomfortably, not sure what she should do.

"No."

"And, well, you know Dad's story as well as I do," Dean continued, the pain evident in his voice. "Mom was… was on the ceiling. And whatever put her there was long gone by the time Dad found her." Quietly slipping past them and into the gas station convenience store, Buffy let the boys have their moment, and grabbed a few bottles of water and a couple of packs of chips off of random shelves, paying with a wad of cash Dean had won in his last poker game. Emerging from the small store, she saw that Sam was alone in the car, and dropped her purchases into the back seat.

"Hey," she greeted softly. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said quietly, not looking fine at all. "I don't know about Dean, though."

"Where is he?" the blond asked, looking around and not seeing any sign of the older Winchester. Concern flooded her, and she frowned. Even though they had been fighting, her anger and resentment for him had dissipated completely the second his vulnerability and pain had surfaced.

"He went to the bathroom." With that, Buffy turned on her heel and headed in the direction of the restrooms, turning suddenly and stopping when she saw that he was standing outside the bathroom with his phone to his ear. He hadn't spotted her yet, and from the look of things, he was definitely not alright.

"There's something in our old house," he was saying. "I don't know if it's the same thing that killed Mom or not, but…" He paused, his voice breaking, and struggled to keep himself together. "I don't know what to do." He was full on crying now, and it took all of her strength not to run to his side and wrap her arms around him. "So, whatever you're doing… If you could get here. Please, I need your help, Dad." With that, he hung up the phone and slipped it into his pocket before bringing a hand up to wipe the tears from his eyes. Not being able to stand it any longer, Buffy slowly walked up to him and, without a word, reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck. He was stiff for a moment, clearly surprised and somewhat upset that she had seem him like this, but a few seconds later, he relaxed into her embrace, his head dropping down onto the top of her head. She held him in silence, feeling his sobs wrack her body and his tears drop from his eyes into her hair as he clung to her.

--

Hope you all enjoyed that! I'll get the next chapter out as soon as I can! Please drop me a review on your way out!


	8. Home Part 2

Disclaimer: As always, I, unfortunately, do not own Buffy, the Winchesters, or the plot. Buffy and her amazing sass is owned by Joss, and the rest is owned by Kripke. Transcripts taken from .nu/roadhouse.

…...

Alright, so it has taken me years, LITERALLY YEARS, to get back to this fic. While it has always held a special place in my heart, I simply lost interest in fanfiction all together (as seen by my lack of updating of all of my other fics, as well). I'm not going to make any promises that this will be updated regularly, but now that I'm past this "Home" hump, I can finally move onto "Asylum," an episode that I have been looking forward to from the very beginning. Here's hoping that I keep it up.

It's been five years, and I am utterly distressed that I cannot write about Castiel, who has slowly grown to be my favorite character on the show, so there might be some teensie changes so that I can bring him into the story. Sam and Dean won't meet him until the fifth season, as per the show allows, but there's not reason that our favorite Slayer can't meet him ahead of time. No promises, but the gears in my head are turning.

I want to thank all of you for sticking by me for all of these years and lack of updates. You guys are truly amazing, and there is no doubt in my mind that I would have stopped writing years ago without you. I even got a few reviews last week, which, honestly, inspired me to get back to this fic.

A couple of people have inquired about whether Buffy and the boys will be returning to Sunnydale/if any Sunnyhell residents will show up in this story, and I'm honestly not sure where I'm going with this. We'll have to wait and see ;)

Thank you sooooooo much to Anya Reine, enchanged nightengale, Princesskarlita, Supreme-Writer, ivegotproblams, AngelwithDirtyThoughts, angel smile 101, TroubledFred, SaradocCraver101, Ellyanah, dkwr07, b.a.n.h.s.f.c.., BloodyPasion, GypsyWitchBaby, Giuly, arrgitsdana, and aparas for your amazing reviews of chapter 7! Sorry I was so bad at responding to y'all... I promise I'll try to be better!

…...

The three sat in silence, Dean in the driver's seat, Sam in the passenger's, and Buffy in the back seat behind Dean. After she had walked in on Dean's private conversation to his father, it had taken him a few minutes to calm down. For those few precious moments, it was just the two of them. The whole world seemed to fade away as he clung to her, his tears dropping from his cheek to hers, leaving a small patch of wetness on the left sleeve of her shirt. However, she barely paid this any attention, instead concentrating on the soft puffs of air against her cheek as he sobbed and the hand that had tangled in her hair to keep their faces pressed together.

And just like that, he was gone. Pulling away from her gently, he hastily brushed the tears from his eyes and cleared his throat uncomfortably. She smiled softly, know that this emotional breakdown had been a rare occurrence for him and that he didn't really know how to handle it.

"C'mon," the blond ordered gently. "Sam's waiting for us." Stepping forward, she was jerked back slightly as Dean slid his hand into hers and held it tightly. Looking up at him, she knew that because of their moment, things had changed. His eyes bore into hers, mentally communicating that everything was going to be okay. They would be okay. He had forgiven her for the whole shape shifter incident – which was SO not her fault, the rebellious part of her brain argued – and he knew that she would never purposely hurt him. She smiled softly, her stomach doing little flip flops at the way he smiled back and looked deeply into her eyes – green meeting green. After a moment, he turned away from her and headed back to the car, the soft pressure from his hand tugging her after him.

Sam had said nothing when they returned to the car, but his eyes did flicker from Dean's puffy eyes to their entwined hands. A soft smile tugged the corner of his lips up, but without a word, he slid into the passenger side of the Impala, leaving Buffy and Dean to get in after him.

After a few silent-filled minutes of driving, the three of them were standing outside a run-down auto repair shop, talking to a plain but oil-covered man. She assumed his name was Guenther, as she had glanced at a sign declaring "GUENTHER'S AUTO REPAIR" by the door, but she hadn't actually caught the man's name. While the boys were engaged in a conversation with him about their father, she wandered around the shop, only half paying attention.

"Stupid puddle," she muttered, shaking her foot free of the muddy water that had encased the bottom half of her boot after a rogue patch of oil caused her to slip into a dirty puddle outside of the shop. "Stupid oil," she added, glaring at the offending spot of oil. She hated garages. She wouldn't know a car's engine from the little pipe thing sticking out of the back of it. _Exhaust pipe_, her mind supplied. Huh, guess her mind did know a little about cars. Go her!

The Slayer frowned, thinking about her mother. Her mother had always insisted that they take their cars into the shop if anything was wrong with them. The full extent of car maintenance that her mom had taught her was how to get gas.

She shook her head, clearing her head of her life back in Sunnydale. The less she thought about it, about Dawn, the easier it was to convince herself to stay with the brothers. With a sigh, she walked back over to where the others were standing, wanting to reengage herself in the conversation in order to force her brain to think about something other than her mother, Dawn, and Sunnyhell. Both Sam and Dean were listening with rapt attention to the older man and paid her no notice as she slid up next to them.

"Well... he was a stubborn bastard," the owner was saying, chuckling nostalgically. "I remember that. And, uh, whenever the game, he hated to loose, you know? It's the whole Marine thing. But, oh, he sure loved Mary. And he doted on those kids." Buffy raised an eyebrow but didn't said nothing. Apparently, they hadn't told the guy that they were John's sons. Always with the undercover stuff. Her, she was more of a stab first ask questions later kinda girl.

"But that was before the fire?" Sam asked, with a slight tilt of his head. Buffy smiled. He was so cute when he was all inquisitive like that.

"That's right."

"He ever talk about that night?" The blond felt Dean stiffen next to her, and she stealthy inched closer to him so that her arm was discretely touching hers. His clenched jaw didn't change, but she felt him relax ever so slightly at the contact.

"No, not at first. I think he was in shock." Buffy spaced out again, her thoughts wandering to the twitchiness and impatience she felt. She hadn't killed anything in days, and she was starting to get fidgety. The Slayer in her roared for more action than this lifestyle provided – sure, they killed things, but she rarely got to go patrolling to blow off steam like she did when she was back in Sunnydale – and she sighed softly, digging the heel of her boot into the solid concrete floor. She found that lately, if she was not given a specific task to concentrate on, her mind wandered, and she found herself spacing out. Or thinking about her previous life. She preferred the spacing out.

"Thank you, sir." The next thing she knew, Sam had placed a gentle but commanding hand on the small of her back and was leading her away from the man and toward the car.

"What?" she asked, confused. Sam looked down at her amusedly. "He talked soooo much." A Summers-patented pout had him laughing out loud, and with Dean bringing up the rear, the three slipped into the Impala. "So... what happened?" she prodded, slightly regretting that she had not payed attention to the man's answers. Damn her short attention span. With a smirk, Dean sped out of the garage's parking lot as Sam filled her in on what they had learned.

A few minutes later, they were parked by a payphone a few blocks away, and Sam was flipping through the attached phone book. Dean was leaning against his precious Impala looking slightly fidgety, and Buffy was sitting on the hood of the car. She sighed, running her hand through her hair. The obvious tension between the two brothers was starting to drive her crazy. Not that either was willing to admit that anything was wrong, of course.

"All right," Sam started after a few moments of tense silence. "So there are a few psychics and palm readers in town. There's someone named El Divino. There's, uh." He paused, chuckling. "There's the Mysterious Mister Fortinsky." Another pause. "Uh, Missouri Moseley-..."

Dean perked up.

"Wait, wait. Missouri Moseley?"

"What?" Sam asked, shooting his brother a confused look.

"That's a psychic?" Another look.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, I guess so." Buffy looked on in mildly interested silence as Dean pushed himself away from the car and rifled around in the back seat for something. After a few seconds of rustling and soft cursing, he extracted their dad's journal.

"In Dad's journal..." The shorter of the two walked over to join his brother and practically waved the leather-bound book in his face. "Here, look at this." As Buffy and Sam looked on, wondering where he was going with this, he flipped it open to the first page. "First page, first sentence. Read that." Sam craned his head so that he could read the line Dean was pointing at. Buffy effortlessly slid off of the hood of the car to join them, stopping a few paces away from where they were standing.

"I went to Missouri, and I learned the truth," Sam read, his eyes going wide. Dean shrugged.

"I always thought he meant the state." There was a pause while the newly-procured information sunk in. "Well, I guess we should go check it out. Maybe she knows where Dad is." Without another word, the two brothers turned and walked back to the Impala, Dean taking the driver's seat and Sam claiming the coveted shotgun seat. They turned toward Buffy expectantly when they realized that she hadn't followed them.

"Uh, yeah," she started, blushing slightly as their eyes bore into her. "I think I'm going to sit this one out. You know me, not much with the research, and I'm itching to kill something." If she didn't kill something soon, she was going to go crazy. "I've got all of this pent up energy..." The two brothers looked at her before shrugging.

"Yeah, sure," Sam said, giving her a sympathetic smile. "Meet us back at the hotel in... an hour and a half?"

"Alright. You guys have fun!" she grinned at them before turning on her heel and marching away from the car.

"Keep your phone on!" Dean yelled at her retreating back, and she smirked, holding up her phone without turning around. It was about time. A quick bout of slaying would do her good. And truth be told, she had wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible. Not only was the unspoken stress between the two boys driving her insane, all this trying to find their father only reminded Buffy of the family that she had left behind in Sunnydale. Shaking her head to clear the unwanted thoughts, the blonde pulled out her cell phone and punched in a few numbers.

A few choice phone calls later and she was heading toward an abandoned building a few blocks away. Vamp nest, her informant had told her. The Slayer was almost giddy in anticipation. It had been too long since she had been able to just do her thing. Slay. She reached the dilapidated building in record time and pressed her ear up against the boarded-up front window. Nothing, but this wasn't too surprising as it was day time. The time when all the good little vamps were tucked into bed, snoring away. With a quick glance around her to make sure that no one was looking, Buffy slipped around the side of the house to find a more inconspicuous point of entry. Spotting the back door, she grinned.

The grin soon disappeared as she took in the state of the home. It had clearly been abandoned. The furniture and walls were covered in dust, and there were bug carcases and droppings littering the surfaces and floors. Demons she could handle, but bugs always left her feeling icky. Only a few dust-free footprints signaled that someone had been there recently, and she followed them into the front room. It was almost completely dark, as the windows had all been boarded up, but there were five bodies strewn across the room. Two were huddled together on the filthy pull-out couch, one was splayed out in the matching chair, and two were sprawled on the dusty wooden floor.

Not craving an easy fight, Buffy coughed loudly and knocked on the peeling molding between the kitchen and the living room, startling the vampires awake. Damn that old "let sleeping vampires lie" thing Giles had always told her.

"Wakey, wakey!" she greeted with fake enthusiasm, as all five donned their vamp visages and jumped up from where they were sleeping. They all growled at her in unison, but she paid them no attention, absently flicking an imaginary piece of dust from her stylish black leather jacket before tsking at them. "Come on guys." She looked pointedly around the room. "Don't you think it's time to update a little? I'm not saying you have to go all out with new furniture. I'm just saying, maybe a nice potted plant would brighten up the room. Maybe a candle and a few coasters?"

"Slayer," the one nearest to her growled, flashing his eyes. Buffy rolled hers. Great. Fledglings. She wanted a good, adrenaline-pumping fight, but nooooooo. Nothing ever went her way, did it?

And then they did something that surprised her.

They all attacked her at once. Apparently, only Sunnydale vamps were dumb enough to attack one at a time while the rest looked on. All five rushed her, two pinning her arms back against the wall. Shocked, she took a few punches to the stomach before getting her bearings. They were more organized that most vamps, but they were still weak from naivete. Using the two holding her as leverage, she jumped up, kicking away the three that were trying to get at her stomach and face. She slammed her arms together in front of her, causing the two holding her arms to smash into each other with two identical growls. Then, with a flick of her wrist and a conveniently placed stake, they vanished in two puffs of ash. Two down, three to go.

The biggest one used her distraction to leap at her from the side, slamming his fist into the side of her face and sending her head reeling. Feeling her lip split, Buffy winced but quickly turned and grabbed his fist just as he was about to deliver an even more powerful punch to her ribcage. As she moved to stake him, the one female of the group grabbed her stake-wielding arm arm and yanked, pulling it clean out of its socket and forcing her to drop her stake. With a strangled cry, Buffy threw her head back against the female vamp's face, she heard a satisfying crunch, and the hold on her arm was released. She quickly retrieved her weapon and sprung back into action. Swiftly staking the hulking man in front of her with her good arm, she turned in a low crouch and swept the other female off of her feet, using her momentum to plunge her stake into her heart.

One left.

Apparently this one was the leader, as he had just stood there watching patiently as she had disposed of the other four. Now that he was the only one left standing, she was able to feel the power rolling off of him in waves. Not wanting to let him have the upper hand, she attacked with a quick series of kicks and punches, only to have each one blocked. She retreated back to her corner of the room, eying him warily. She knew that he had one up on her because of her dislocated shoulder, and she wanted to assess the situation a bit before leaping in half-cocked. Again.

"Buffy Summers," the vampire drawled, letting his vamp face melt away. He was quite attractive. Talk, dark, handsome. You know the type. He carried himself with a graceful air of nobility, and there was no doubt in her mind that he had been around for quite a while. "It's a pleasure. You're more beautiful that I had imagined."

"Aw," she purred, trying not to think about how her right arm was hanging uselessly at her side. Stupid fledglings and their ability to work together. She'd be feeling this one for a few days, but she found that she didn't really mind. This is what she had been hoping for. A real fight. "I'm sure you say that to all the girls."

"Not quite, my dear," he continued on, eying her heatedly. Alright, now she was feeling uncomfortable. There were a few moments of silence as the two started to circle each other. "I can make you stronger than you ever imagined. We could rule the world, you and I." Ah, one of those. Every once in a while, Buffy ran across a vamp thinking that he, or she in one case, could sway the Slayer into turning to the dark side. She snorted.

"Sorry, Casanova. Not really looking for a long-time thing. I'm more of a stake 'em and leave 'em kinda girl." He shrugged, allowing his handsome features to once again be overtaken by the demon within.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

Without another word, he launched himself at the petite blond, but she was ready for him. Done with the pleasantries, she jumped into action. Ducking, she swung a leg out, catching him in the stomach and sending him flying into the wall behind her. He recovered quickly and lashed out, catching her in the stomach with a powerful kick and causing her to double up in pain. Taking advantage of her vulnerability, he slammed his fist into the side of her face, sending her flying to the floor. Vision spinning, Buffy felt herself being lifted up the wall by her throat, and her good hand scrambled at her neck, trying to dislodge his powerful grip. She gasped, lack air suddenly becoming an issue.

"It's too bad," he said, pressed so tight against her that she could feel the rumble of his deep voice in her chest. "We would have made a beautiful couple. But if you do not want to join me, as you wish." With a growl, he leaned slowly toward her neck to her already existing scar. Buffy panicked, thrashing wildly in his grip, and one of her high-heeled boot clad feet connected with his knee. He howled, dropping her in surprise, and she scrambled out of the way, crossing the few feet between her and the stake she had dropped. With a swirl of long, blonde hair, she plunged the stake into his back, watching with wide eyes as he crumbled to dust.

She coughed as the ash filled her lungs and reached a hand to her throat to massage the sore muscles there. Groaning, she crossed the room and flopped down onto the dirty couch, coughing renewed as dust followed ash down her esophagus.

"Too close," she muttered, shaking her head. "Wayyyyyy too close."

…...

Buffy winced as she pulled the little plastic key card from her pocket. After a ten second struggle with the door, she heard the tell-tale beep and gratefully pushed it open. Clutching her right arm to her chest, she dropped her phone, key, and stake onto the tiny table by the TV and stripped off her jacket. It was a bit dusty, but there had been no permanent damage. She inwardly did a happy dance. She liked that jacket, and it wasn't its time yet. The happy dance stopped as the movement pulled at her sore ribs, and she groaned, lifting her shirt with her good arm in order to inspect the damage. Poking hesitantly at the area, she deduced that nothing was broken, but judging by the blossoming purple mark, a couple were most likely bruised.

Stupid neanderthal vamp.

She quickly stripped off the shirt, her bra, and her dark-wash jeans before heading to the bathroom, still clutching her arm. There was nothing she could do until the boys came back, so she decided that a shower was the best option. Her allergies were already starting to act up because of all the damn dust. Closing the pain wooden door behind her, the blonde stepped in front of the mirror, wincing as she took in her split lip and the large bruise that was starting to form on her right jaw. Sighing, the Slayer slipped off her underwear and sat down on the edge of the tub, fiddling with the nozzles until she got it to the right temperature. She stepped in, wondering how efficiently she would be able to wash herself with only one hand.

It wasn't easy, but she did as best as she could and after a few minutes stepped from the tub and onto the nubby bathroom mat. As she reached over to grab a towel, her shoulder bumped the counter, and she screamed out in pain, once again clutching it to her chest. Half a second later, the door burst open, and a panicked-looking Sam stumbled into the room.

"Oh god, I am so sorry!" He gasped when he realized that she was naked and dripping wet and chivalrously brought up a hand to shield his eyes. "Are you..." Cough "Alright? I thought I heard you yell."

"It's alright, Prince Charming," she teased, quickly wrapping the towel around her body. "You can look now." He lowered his hand and gave her an abashed smile. "Why is it that you're the one that always walks in on me naked?" He chucked, remembering their "moment" from the very first night she had spent with them.

"Just lucky I guess." Buffy laughed but winced as the action jostled her shoulder. He stiffened, taking in her bruised face and limp arm. "What the hell happened?"

"Your Kansas vamps are way smarter than Sunnydale vamps," she answered, standing. "One of them dislocated my shoulder." She gestured unnecessarily, as he was already staring at her shoulder. "Mind giving me a hand?"

"Yeah," he answered, ushering her from the bathroom and into the main room. "Yeah! Sure." Settling her down on the bed, he fidgeted around her, seemingly trying to figure out the best way to do this without causing her any more pain.

"Just do it, Sam," she ground out between clenched teeth. The pain she could handle. The anticipation, not so much. With a look, he took a hold of her wrist and her upper arm, and swiftly popped it back into place.

"Ow! Son of a bitch!" Buffy cursed, jerking as a wave of pain shot through her arm. Then, just like that, it was gone, leaving only a dull ache in its place.

"Son of a bitch?" Sam asked, smirking. "You've been spending too much time with Dean."

"Pfffft." She punched him in the arm, and he winced despite her punching him only softly. Well, softly for her. "Where is your stupid brother, anyways?" His expression got serious, and she cursed herself for making that charming smile of his disappear.

"He and Missouri are waiting at her place. I just came to pick you up." His gaze dropped to the scratchy bedspread. "We're going back to the house. She said that there was something evil in there." The two sat in awkward silence for a few minutes before it became too much for the Slayer to handle. Awkward situations? Not her strong suit.

"I'm sorry, Sam," Buffy started quietly, placing a hand on his arm. "I know this must be difficult for you. Both of you," she amended as she thought of Dean. "If you guys want to do this alone, that's totally fine with me. I know it's important to you." He smiled at her again, but this time it was sad instead of teasing.

"No it's alright," his large hand closed over her small one, and he gave it a squeeze. "We could use you. That is if you're up to it. You look like you just went ten rounds with a brick wall." He was teasing her to ease the tension, and she played along.

"Please, I am as gorgeous and perky as always." With a grin, she crossed the room to her duffel. A glance over her shoulder revealed an emotional-looking Sam once again staring at the carpet, and in a second, she was at his side. Without another word, she knelt down on the bed beside him and wrapped him up in a hug. He was stiff at first, but he relaxed into it. They stayed like that for a moment with their arms entwined around each other before Buffy pulled back. Placing a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth, she got up and walked back over to gather up some clothes. "Let me just get changed."

…...

Ten minutes later, the two were sitting in the Impala speeding toward Missouri Moseley's house. Sam's knuckles were white on the steering wheel, and his gaze never faltered from the car in front of them. As they pulled up in front of a plain but charming white house, Buffy could see Dean and a kind-looking black woman rush out the front door to greet them.

"What the hell happened to you?" Dean asked as soon as she had exited the car. She had used cover up to to try to disguise the bruise on her face the best that she could, but there was only so much she could do. As if on cue, the woman smacked him on the back of the head, giving him a stern look when he turned to her to protest.

"Nothing," she answered curtly, giving him a look. He hesitantly backed off, knowing that she would tell him about it later. "Hi," the blonde greeted, turning toward the older woman. "I'm Buffy."

"Buffy Summers," the woman mused, shaking her proffered hand. "You're the Slayer."

"I, uh," Buffy stuttered, looking to Sam for an explanation for why this woman knew what she was. He shook his head in confusion. "How did you-..."

"Missouri, dear. It's a pleasure to meet you. Rupert has told me a lot about you." Missouri smiled. The Slayer's eyes widened, and if possible Missouri's smile grew even wider.

"You know Giles?" Her voice came out all high-pitched and squeaky, and she coughed to clear her throat. "How?"

"We're old friends," the woman answered cryptically, and without another word, ushered her and the two confused brothers back to the Impala. "Come on, now. Let's get going. We don't have all day."

The drive to the boys' old house was made in rather uncomfortable silence on Buffy's end, and a few minutes later, they pulled up and got out of the car. Tucking the keys to his baby into the front pocket of his jeans, Dean led the way to the door with the other three close behind them.

A knock later, and Jenny appeared at the door with Ritchie in her arms.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, looking quizzically over Sam's shoulder at Missouri.

"Hey, Jenny," Sam greeted with his patented charming smile. "This is our friend, Missouri."

"If it's not too much trouble," Dean cut in, none-too-subtley shoving his way in front of his little brother. "We were hoping to show her the old house. You know, for old time's sake."

Jenny frowned, shifting Ritchie on her hip.

"You know, this isn't a good time. I'm kind of busy."

"Listen, Jenny," Dean started, clearly becoming annoyed, "it's important." Buffy watched amusedly as Missouri smacked him on the back of his head. "Ow!" She snorted quietly, schooling her features back into indifference when four heads turned to look at her.

"Give the poor girl a break. Can't you see she's upset?" Done with reprimanding the pouting man in front of her, she turned to the blonde in the doorway. "Forgive this boy. He means well. He's just not the sharpest tool in the shed, but hear me out." There were two snorts this time, and Buffy and Sam looked toward each other to exchange an amused grin.

"About what?" Jenny asked, looking hesitant but also more open to the idea than she had mere seconds ago. Buffy had to hand it to Missouri; she was good.

"About your house," Buffy chimed in with a soft smile, prompting the other blonde to turn toward her once again.

"What are you talking about?" She was starting to look panicked now, and both Buffy and Missouri stepped forward to reassure her. Wisely, Sam and Dean stayed exactly where they were.

"I think you know what I'm talking about," Missouri countered, her smooth voice seeming to calm the distraught blonde in front of her. Even though she had only known her for a short time, Buffy felt like she could trust this woman. That thing about knowing Giles, though, she'd have to remember to ask about later.

"Who are you?" Jenny continued to look unsure, but the Slayer could tell that her resolve was slipping.

"We're people who can help, who can stop this thing," came Missouri's calm voice. "But you're going to have to trust us, just a little."

That did the trick, and Jenny let them in, holding the door open wide so they could all file in. A few minutes of hushed discussion later found Buffy, Sam, Dean, and Missouri in Saurie's bedroom on the second floor while Jenny and her two children remained downstairs in the kitchen.

"If there's a dark energy around here, this room should be the center of it," Missouri informed them, running her hands across the smooth walls. Buffy and Dean looked on from the corner by the door while Sam stopped in the middle of the room.

"Why?"

"This used to be your nursery, Sam. This is where it all happened." Sam glanced up at the ceiling while Dean pulled his EMF meter from his jacket pocket. The blonde shifted, and after feeling her ribs protest at the movement, crossed the room to sit in a chair placed by the bed. Waving off Sam's concerned look, Buffy once again turned her attention to Missouri.

"That an EMF?" she questioned, looking pointedly at the device in Dean's hand.

"Yeah," came his curt answer. Apparently he hadn't taken to her as quickly as Buffy and Sam had.

"Amateur." Buffy tried to hide a smile as Dean glared at the woman. It wasn't hard to see why. She looked on as he nudged his brother, showing him that the EMF was beeping frantically.

"I don't know if you boys should be disappointed or relieved," Missouri stated, sighing, "but this isn't the thing that took your mom."

"Wait, are you sure?" Sam stopped his pacing to stare down at her with wide eyes. She nodded. "How do you know?"

"It wasn't t he same energy I felt the last time I was here." She went back to running her hands along the bright blue walls. "It's somethin' different."

"She came to see if she could find anything after Mom died." The soft voice in her ear jolted Buffy out of her Missouri-educed trance, and she looked up to see Dean staring down at her.

"Yeah, I got that," came her soft supply, and the two locked eyes. A few seconds passed as hazel stared into green, and then he was gone.

"What is it?" He was once again standing by her side, and the blonde blinked a few times to bring herself back to reality. Damn him and his sexy, soul-searching eyes.

"Not it," she started, cropping the room to open the closet. "Them. There's more than one spirit in this place."

"Yes!" Buffy interjected, causing all eyes to turn toward her. "I knew that there was more than one! One was trying to cancel the other out."

"You're right, dear," Missouri rewarded her with a soft smile.

"What are they doing here?" Dean asked, turning his attention back to the older woman.

"They're here because of what happened to your family. You see, all those years ago, real evil came to you. It walked this house. That kind of evil leaves wounds. And sometimes, wounds get infected." Awesome.

"There's residue," Buffy answered helpfully, attempting to tap into some of the knowledge that Giles had once tried to force into her overloaded brain. "Magic... Evil... It leaves traces. Even long after."

"This place is a magnet for paranormal energy," Missouri added, nodding. "It's attracted a poltergeist. A nasty one. And it won't rest until Jenny and her babies are dead."

"Well, one thing's for damn sure," Dean interjected, his resolve face firmly in place. "Nobody's dyin' in this house ever again. So whatever is here, how do we stop it?"

…...

Half an hour later found the four of them crowded around Missouri's dining room table surrounded by different roots and herbs.

"Stinky herbs are a go!" Buffy announced, tying the final bag closed and tossing it into the pile with the others.

"So, what is all this stuff, anyway?" Dean asked, wrinkling his nose. The Slayer smiled slightly, finding herself once again entranced by his ruggedly handsome good looks and little facial actions. She mentally shook her head, only to find him staring at her when she looked up again. _Bad Buffy. Spirits, ghosts, evil oogily booglies. No time to think about how sexy your fellow hunter is. Mmmmm... Dammit!_

"Angelica Root, Van Van oil, crossroad dirt, a few other odds and ends." Missouri's rich voice brought her back to the present. She could swear she saw the older woman smile knowingly when she snapped out of her trance. Stupid mind reading. Another smile. The Slayer hoped that she had the ability to turn it on and off. Hearing other people's thoughts wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

"Yeah? What are we supposed to do with it?" Dean supplied seemingly skeptically. Buffy watched as he dipped a finger into the bowl and brought it to his mouth, trying her hardest to cover her laugh when he spit it out disgustedly. Seriously, who does that?

"We're gonna put them inside the walls in the north, south, east, west corners on each floor of the house." Dean scoffed.

"We'll be punchin' holes in the dry wall. Jenny's gonna love that."

"She'll live," Missouri answered with a sly smile.

"And this'll destroy the spirits?" Sam chimed in,

"It should." Missouri nodded, turning her attention to the taller boy. "It should purify the house completely. We'll each take a floor. But we work fast. Once the spirits realize what we're up to, things are gonna get bad."

…...

They were back at Jenny's. Buffy sighed, disliking all of this travel and planning. If it was a vamp or demon, she'd just show up and kick its ass. But noooooooo. She felt so helpless, something that she hated feeling, when they were fighting spirits. She was all kick, punch, headbutt. She wasn't good with the Latin or stinky herbs. She could never get the smell out of her clothes.

As Missouri ushered Jenny and the kids outside, she, Sam, and Dean were put in charge of hiding the bags. While the boys were armed with hammers, Buffy simply slammed her fist into the farthest corner of the kitchen and dropped the bag inside, pausing before shifting a potted plant to cover the hole.

"Done and done." Just as she turned around to join the others, a knife flew past her face, embedding itself in the cabinet behind her. "Or not." Before any more rogue cutlery could attack her, Buffy sprinted out of the kitchen into the living room, making sure to slam the door shut behind her. She started to breathe a sigh of relief, but out of the corner of her eye, she caught the cord of a broken lamp snake up behind Sam and wrap itself around his neck. "Sam!"

In a panic, she rushed over to him and slid to a stop on the polished floor, dropping to her knees in order to help him.

"Buffy!" It came out rough and whispered, but she could clearly hear the panic. They both continued to struggle with the tightly-wrapped cord, but it wouldn't budge. In an attempt to pull it off him, Buffy found herself straddling him for leverage. A few seconds later, and Sam lay unmoving on the ground.

"DEAN!" the Slayer screamed as loud as she could, eyes searching the room frantically for anything that could cut the cord loose. "DEAN GET YOUR ASS IN HERE!" Dead skid into the room, clutching the last bag of herbs in his hand.

"Sam!" he cried, equally as panicked as he rushed over to try and dislodge the cord from his brother's throat.

"The bag!" the Slayer yelled, bordering on hysterical. Oh God, oh God, oh God. DAMN GHOSTS. "Dean! The bag!" Without another word, Dean launched himself into the corner of the room and kicked a hole in the wall. As soon as he tossed the bag in, a blinding light erupted from the center of the room, causing Buffy to throw up a hand to protect her eyes.

And just like that, it was gone.

"Sam!" Buffy yelled, turning her attention back to the man beneath her. "Same, wake up!" In a second, Dean was at her side, helping her pull the cord from around his neck. Sam gasped, causing both his brother and the blonde to sit him up and hug him from both sides. With a relieved sob, Buffy buried her head in his neck, feeling the tears slip from her eyelashes and splash against his skin.

She rarely cried, but for some reason, these two brought it out in her. She hadn't known them for long, but she felt likes he had known them for a lifetime. They were exactly like her. Willow, Xander, Tara, Anya, Dawn, even Giles, all of them had a choice. They could go on to live normal lives. Finish school, be in love, have a family. The whole world was at their fingertips. But Buffy, this was her calling. Her destiny. She didn't have a choice. And neither did Sam or Dean.

As she clutched Sam's head to hers, she felt two pairs of strong arms wind themselves around her, and that's when she knew it. She was home.

…...

A few hours later, all four of them were standing in Jenny's kitchen. The boys had shrugged off her little outburst without a word, and for that, she was grateful. She wasn't quite ready to deal with all of those feelings yet.

"Well... this is just..." Buffy trailed off, hardly believe the sight before her. The kitchen was absolutely destroyed. There were multiple knives embedded in the cabinets and door where she had disappeared through, and almost all the furniture had been upended and thrown haphazardly across the room. "Wow."

"You sure this is over?" Sam asked, rubbing at his neck. Bruises were starting to form, and Buffy winced sympathetically.

"I'm sure," Missouri answered, also looking warily around the kitchen. "Why? Why do you ask?" There was a pause before Sam sighed.

"Nevermind." Before Buffy could voice her similar doubts, the front door slammed, signaling Jenny's return. A few seconds later, she appeared beside Buffy at the entrance to the kitchen.

"What happened?" she asked, eyes wide. The Slayer could practically feel the heart attack coming.

"Hi," Sam braved on, "sorry. Um, we'll pay for all of this." Dean's eyes widened, but he didn't say anything.

"Don't you worry," Missouri chimed in, sending Dean a look. "Dean's gonna clean up this mess." Dean continued to stare at her. "Well, what are you waiting for, boy? Get the mop." After a second, he slowly turned his back on the group and started toward the living room. "And don't cuss at me!" Buffy could distinctly hear muttering now, and hastily turned her laugh into an unconvincing cough.

They all pitched in, and a short while later, the kitchen and living room were returned to their former glory. Well, almost. They had no idea how to get the knife marks out of the cabinets and swinging door.

Making their way out of the house, the four waved goodbye to Jenny before walking back over to the Impala and getting in.

"I don't know," Buffy said, sliding into the passenger seat next to Dean. "Something's not right. I'm gonna stay here for a little bit. Keep an eye on things." Dean turned to look at her quizzically, but Sam didn't seem surprised. "Dean, take Missouri back to her house. Sam... Stay with me?" Seemingly put out by her choosing his brother over him, Dean made a face but eventually nodded.

"Yeah, sure. I'll be back in a few." Buffy swapped places with the older woman, and carefully shut the door behind her. Just as Dean was about to drive off, the Slayer knocked on the window and motioned for Missouri to roll her window down.

"If you, uh, talk to Giles," she started, feeling the older woman's eyes bore into her own. "Don't tell him... uh... don't..." She looked down, unable to find the right words.

"Don't tell him you were here?" Missouri pressed, and Buffy nodded. "Sure thing, sweetheart." And with a small smile, they were gone.

Buffy sighed, dropping down to the pavement in front of Jenny's house. A few seconds later, Sam joined her. Bringing her hands to her face to rub at her eyes, and wincing as she jostled her sore jaw, the blond let her fingers run through her hair until they were resting at the back of her head.

"What's up?" Sam asked in that quietly supportive voice of his. Damn him and his stupid voice. It made her want to tell him everything. "Are you alright?" She felt his hand on her chin, and she allowed him to tilt her face toward him. One look in his soulful brown eyes, and she had to look away.

"What am I doing here?" she muttered, returning her gaze to the asphalt beneath her boots. Silence. She knew that he was thinking the same thing. "I have a family. I have Dawn! My friends, the Hellmouth, God, even Spike!" She threw up her arms in exasperation. Sam still said nothing, allowing her to vent. "They need me. I mean, they need the Slayer," she amended.

"It's not just the Slayer they need," Sam reasoned, draping his arm around her bare shoulders and drawing her toward him. Without hesitation, she cuddled into him, laying her head on his chest and curling her legs to the side. "They need you. Buffy, you are an amazing woman. You're powerful, the strongest person I have ever met, and I'm not just talking about your physical strength." There was a pause as his words sunk in. "But haven't you given enough. You died. You should be able to go off and live your life. Something normal. Away from demons and darkness." She sighed. He sounded just like Angel.

"You tried that," she countered, remembering his story about how he had run off to become a lawyer. You had everything that you wanted," she paused, wincing slightly as she thought about Jessica, "and you were pulled back in. So was I. We can't leave, Sam. We'll never be free." The two sat in silence for a few minutes, Buffy scuffing her heel against the pavement and Sam playing absently with the blond hair that had tumbled into his lap. "Maybe I should go back. They need me."

"Is them needing you enough of a reason to go back?" he asked quietly, watching as his fingers twirled around the golden strands. This question, loaded with wisdom beyond his years, had her thinking. Sure, Sunnydale needed her, but did she need it? She missed her friends and family, but was she willing to give up what she had here? With them? Could she leave them?

"So," Sam pressed. "You and Dean."

"Me and Dean." That had a small smile tugging at her lips.

"Are you two...?" She sighed, shifting her head on his shoulder.

"I don't know." She hesitated, realizing their intimate position. She and Sam had always had a little spark, but she was certain that it was nothing more than protectiveness and maybe a brother-sister vibe. She loved him, of that she was certain, but it was a different kind of love that she felt for his brother. Wait, love? "I don't know. I don't know if I can do it again." He nodded, knowing the short version of her relationships with Angel and Riley. "Angel... He... God, I loved him. I still do, so much, but nothing can ever happen between us. It was too powerful, too raw. We were soul mates, but we weren't right for each other, you know?" Another nod. "And Riley. He never admitted it, but I know he hated that I was stronger than him, that I could do things that he would never be able to. This... All of this was just a game to him."

"And Dean?"

"Dean's different... He's special. He's not... He's not Angel, but he's not supposed to be. He gets me. My life. You both do. And he... I know he'll do anything to protect me. He just..." She trailed off, sighing, and Sam didn't press any further. The simply sat in comfortable silence until Buffy shivered, and Sam drew her closer so that he could wrap his jacket around both of them. A few minutes later, Dean pulled up, obviously miffed at their affectionate embrace. Without a word, Buffy and Sam stood up, the Slayer sliding into the back seat and curling in on herself against the door. She continued to stare out of the window into the darkness, thoughts of the Winchesters and Sunnydale clouding her thoughts. Seconds stretched into minutes, minutes into hours, and no one said a word. Until finally...

"All right, so, tell me again, what are we still doin' here?" Dean's voice was gruff. It was clear that he was still annoyed at the affection his brother and lover were showing for each other.

"I don't know. I just... I still have a bad feeling," Sam answered, giving him a look. "Buffy, too." The Slayer stayed silent, preoccupied with the thoughts racing through her head.

"Why?" Dean asked. "Missouri did her whole Zelda Rubenstein thing, the house should be clean, it should be over."

"Yeah, well, probably. But I just wanna make sure, that's all."

"Yeah, well, problem is I could be sleeping in a bed right now," Dean grumbled, slouching lower in his seat and closing his eyes.

"No," Buffy whispered, her eyes drifting back to the house. "Something's off." She saw it at the same time as Sam did. Jenny was standing at her bedroom window and pounding on the glass, obviously screaming. "Dammit!" In the blink of an eye, she was out of the car and up the walk with the boys struggling to keep up with her.

"You two grab the kids," Dean ordered as they ran up the stairs. Buffy started to argue, but he shot her a look. "Just go! I'll get Jenny!" He sprinted off toward Jenny's room, and with one last glance, the blond followed Sam in the opposite direction.

"Get Ritchie!" she yelled before barging into Sairie's bedroom. The first thing she saw upon entering was a figure made out of fire standing by the closet. "Fire! Bad!" Knowing that there is no way in hell she'll be able to fight this thing, she rushed to the bed where Sairie was screaming for help! "Alright, come on, sweetie! Come on!" With the little girl securely wrapped up in her arms, she lept over the bed and ran for the door. "Don't look, sweetie," she shushed, comforting the girl as much as she could while she was running for her life. Sairie had stopped screaming but was now sobbing openly with her arms wrapped around the Slayer's neck and her small head buried in her neck. "SAM!" Buffy screamed as soon as she reached the hallway. "SAM WHERE ARE YOU?"

"I'm here!" he yelled back as he rushed out of Ritchie's room, the little boy cradled in his arms. "I'm here!" Together, they ran down the stairs, taking them two at a time. When the reached the bottom, Sam set down Ritchie, and Buffy set down Sairie. "All right, Sairie, take your brother outside as fast as you can, and don't look back." Buffy ran ahead to make sure that the children got out safely, and as she burst through the front door, she saw that Dean and Jenny had made it out alive. However, her relief was short-lived as she looked back into the doorway and saw Sam fall to the floor and slide out of sight.

"SAM!" Without another thought of the kids or Dean, she sprinted back up the walkway and through the open door. She could hear Dean yelling after her, but a second later, the door slammed shut on its own. Skidding to a stop, she yanked on the door, only to find that it didn't budge despite her Slayer strength. "Dammit!" Abandoning the door, she turned her attention back to the house. "Sam!" Following scuffling sounds into the kitchen, she arrived in the doorway to see him flung into the cabinets and pinned against the wall.

"Buffy!"

"Let him go!" the Slayer ordered, walking slowly into the empty room. "Let him go, I said! Take me." She was no longer yelling, but the slight growl in her voice showed that she wouldn't take no for an answer.

"Buffy, no!"

"Shut up, Sam!" she countered, turning her back on him. "You want me. I know you can feel my power. Take. Me." At the same time that Sam fell to the floor, she was flung off her feet and crashed into the recently-righted dining room table, splitting it in half. One of the knives that had attacked her earlier flew at her, imbedding itself into her shoulder. The same damn shoulder that had been dislocated earlier that day, she realized absently. With a loud scream, Buffy jumped to her feet, only to be slammed up against the refrigerator and pinned.

Suddenly, the figure made of fire she had seen earlier in Sairie's room appeared in the middle of the kitchen, and Buffy felt herself being dropped to the floor. Wincing, she yanked the knife from her shoulder before grabbing a towel off of the fridge door and holding it to the wound.

"Sam!" she yelled, panicked, just as Dean burst into the room with his rifle at the ready.

"Sam? Sam!"

"No, don't!" Sam yelled at his brother, holding up his hands. "Don't!"

"What? Why?" Dean questioned, not lowering his rifle. Buffy struggled to her feet, wincing as the motion pulled at her dually-injured shoulder. She should have known better than to wish for a good fight. Stupid Buffy.

"Because I know what it is," the younger Winchester answered, his voice quiet, even reverent. "I can see her now."

As the three turned to look toward the center of the room, the fire disappeared, leaving a beautiful blonde woman in a white nightgown in its place. Buffy's eyes widened, recognizing Mary Winchester from a photo Dean kept in his duffel. Glancing over at Dean, she saw him lower his gun in shock.

"Mom?" His voice was soft, disbelieving, and a lone tear snaked its way down his cheek. The woman smiled lovingly at him and took a step closer.

"Dean." More tears pooled in her older son's eyes, and she took one last look at him before turning away. As she walked toward Sam, Dean never took his eyes off of her. As strong as the urge to rush to his side and comfort him was, Buffy stayed rooted to the spot, clutching her arm, not wanting to impose on the moment. "Sam," she said, stopping in front of him. He was openly crying now but managed a weak smile. "I'm sorry." His smile faded.

"For what?" She looked at him sadly, but said nothing. Turning toward the shocked Slayer in the corner, she stopped in front of her, almost close enough to touch – _would she be able to touch her?_ her mind questioned absently – and smiled.

"Take care of them. They need you." Buffy nodded understandingly, promising the older woman with her eyes that she would take care of her sons. Watching as she walked away, the Slayer sighed, knowing exactly what she was going to do. It was what she would have done.

"You get out of my house," the woman ordered, looking up at the ceiling. "Get. Out." Once again, she burst into flames, and when she was fully engulfed, the fire spread to the ceiling and disappeared. The three looked on stunned, as the room returned to its normal and fire-free state.

"Now it's over."

…...

They drove back to the motel in silence, and as soon they reached the dilapidated series of rooms, Sam left them, saying that he needed to clear his head. This left Buffy and Dean alone together, and the awkwardness followed them into the room as Dean shut the door.

"Let me see your arm," he ordered gruffly, pushing her down on the bed and rifling through his duffel for the first aid kit.

"No, really, I'm-..." the blonde protested, untying the towel to check the damage.

"Let me look at it." His tone left no room for discussion, so she sighed and scooched up to the headboard, closing her eyes. "Here." He pressed two ice packs into her hands. "One for your jaw and the other for your ribs." She looked at him quizzically, surprised that he knew her ribs were injured. "Your were favoring them today," he answered her curtly as way of explanation.

"Ah." She sat in silence, tucking an ice pack under her shirt and holding the other to her jaw as Dean fussed with her am. She knew that it would be healed by tomorrow, but she let him tend to her anyways. She knew that he needed to in order to feel better. Six stitches and a gauze-padded bandage later, and he finally left her alone. He was quiet, and it didn't take a genius to see that he was upset. "Dean..."

"What the hell were you thinking?" he burst out, throwing his arms up in the air. She looked on, shocked, as he began to pace the small room. "Going off to fight vamps like that! Alone! You could have gotten killed! You should have waited for us!"

"Ex-CUSE me?" the Slayer countered, her mouth dropping open in shock. Was he seriously saying that to her? What was he? Riley 2.0? "I am the Slayer! Slay-er! I kill things! I don't need you to treat me like a child! I can handle it myself!" The flare of anger in his eyes fizzled slightly, and he let out a yell before sitting down at the foot of the bed.

"I know."

"That's right I-..." she trailed off, noticing his change in mood. "You know?"

"I know," he repeated, running a hand through his shortly-cropped hair. He fidgeted slightly, taking off his jacket and button up shirt to occupy his hands. "Buffy," he started, turning to look her straight in the eye. "I just... I don't know what I would do if something happened to you." Her gaze softened. In front of her, he looked less like a hardened demon hunter and more like a sad little boy. "I think I..." he trailed off, mumbling something under his breath. She was pretty sure she heard what he said, bionic Slayer hearing and all, but she wanted to make sure.

"What's that?"

"I think... I think I'm falling in love with you."

His confession hung heavily in the air as the two stared at each other. From everything she had heard about him, from everything Sam had told her, Dean Winchester did not share his feelings. He was hard and crass, and he kept his emotions bottled up inside him. This moment of vulnerability shocked her, and she didn't realize how much time had passed in silence until he cleared his throat.

"Nevermind," he started, voice gruff from emotion. "Nevermind. It's nothing." He moved to stand up from the bed, but before he could move, Buffy had closed the difference and placed a hand on his shoulder. He stilled, looking into her eyes hopefully.

"Dean, I..." She hesitated, not sure if she wanted to open herself up to love again after she had been burned in the past, but the flicker of fear in his eyes had her throwing all that doubt out of the window. Hell, you only live once... Well, three times in her case. "I think I'm falling in with you, too." Her admission was quiet, but she had no doubt that he had heard her. At her words, a beautiful smile spread across his face, and he pulled her toward him in a crushing embrace, claiming her lips with his own.

…...

Well there you have it. I ended it there because there was no way their farewell to Missouri and Jenny could be as powerful as that! Hope you guys liked it!

Drop me a review (good, bad, indifferent) on your way out! Cheers!


	9. Asylum Part 1

Disclaimer: Per usual, Buffy is owned by Joss, and the boys and Supernatural are owned by Kripke. Transcripts are from ., and Buffy's little speech is taken from "Normal Again."

Thanks to BloodyPasion, aparas, and Vicki219 for your awesome reviews! They are food for my muse! Keep em coming!

Enjoy!

…...

_Dammit_, Buffy cursed, shaking her head in an attempt to dislodge the annoyingly catchy top 40s song from where it was playing on repeat in her brain. Dean refused to play anything other than classic rock in his "baby," but the ditzy, former prom queen in her still enjoyed a bad, but upbeat, pop song every once in a while. Old habits died hard. Like she now wished this song would.

Annoyingly catchy songs aside, or maybe included, she had had a pretty awesome day.

It had been a week since the incident in Kansas, and they had yet to catch wind of another job. Mostly, their days consisted of driving around aimlessly, scouring the internet and local newspapers for potential supernatural occurrences, and kicking back at local bars in the evenings. Buffy had been trying to get in bouts of slaying as often as possible, as her senses and energy were on over-drive from the lack of evil baddies. She ran across a vamp or two every once in a while, but she had yet to find a town as populated as Sunnydale. She didn't appreciate the constant activity until she no longer had anything to keep her inner Slayer in check.

That morning, Dean had handed her a small wad of twenties and told her to go nuts. He and Sam knew that she was having a hard time with the lack of work, and they had sent her out to pamper herself. Or to get her out of their hair. Either way, after an hour of futile arguing about how they didn't have the money to spare, she had left the motel and headed in the direction of the nearest mall. But of course, the tiny, nothing town that they had set up shop in had no mall. She made due with a local thrift shop, and despite her general dislike for used clothing, she had picked up quite a few things. Then, she had gotten a manicure at a tiny, hole-in the wall nail salon on Main Street.

Walking up to room 106 with her arms laden with bags, Buffy sighed, looking down at her newly polished nails. Manicures never lasted long in her line of work, but hey, she was a girl after all. She was nothing if not fashionable while slaying.

She struggled with her bags for a moment but was able to unlock the door to her room with minimal difficulties, only to find the boys engaged in yet another argument. Things had been tense between the two of them since Dean had learned that Sam was getting visions, and like always, they had refused to sit down and talk about it. After a while, she had learned to mostly ignore it.

Rolling her eyes, she deposited on the bed before focusing her attention on the brothers. Dean was sitting at the small table while Sam was pacing dizzying circles around the room. Neither acknowledged her, as they were too wrapped up in their bickering.

"This is a job," Sam argued, clearly annoyed. "Dad wants us to work a job." 

"I mean, maybe we'll meet up with him, maybe he's there." Despite his calm and collected facade, Buffy sighed at the hope lacing his words. As she had learned, when it came to their father, the Winchester boys didn't see quite eye to eye. Sam was skeptical of John's parenting style, hating that he had grown up fighting demons and monsters instead of having a normal life. In contrast, Dean treated his father like a hero, falling in line with every order. He had never even tried to have a normal life, at least since his mother had died so many years ago.  
"Maybe he's not," Sam countered, gesturing wildly. He was clearly getting exasperated, and Dean was doing nothing to calm his nerves. Buffy sat down on the bed, trying to make as little noise as possible until the brothers were done with their argument. It didn't concern her, and she didn't want to stick her nose into their family business. She already felt guilty for tagging along to their childhood home a week earlier. "I mean, he could be sending us there by ourselves to hunt this thing."

"Who cares? If he wants us there, that's good enough for me." Dean closed their father's journal, shut Sam's laptop and got up, clearly trying to bring their discussion to a halt. Sam, per usual, was having none of that.

"This doesn't strike you as weird?" Sam pushed, his eyes wide. "The texting? The coordinates?" That's when Dean snapped.

"Sam," he started, the tone of his voice leaving no room for argument. "Dad's tellin' us to go somewhere. We're going." Without another word, he turned his back on his brother and walked toward the bathroom. With a forced smile in Buffy's direction, he disappeared behind the closed door, and the Slayer turned her attention to the younger Winchester.

Sam sighed, dropping onto the other bed and running his hands through his shaggy hair. Getting up from her place perched on the edge of the far right bed, Buffy sat down next to him and smoothed down his now-sticking up hair.

"So..." she pressed gently, watching as he let out another sigh. "What happened?"

"Dad texted us," came his curt reply.

"...And?" He turned toward her, giving her a sad smile.

"He wants us to go to some asylum in Illinois." There was a pause while they continued to stare at each other. Sam looked down. Buffy didn't pry; she knew that he had more to tell her and that he would as soon as he found the right words. Here, in the middle of nowhere, she was the only one he could talk to. "He's not going to be there, is he?" He looked so lost and upset that all she wanted to do was cuddle him up in her arms and never let go. She resisted the urge and instead took one of his gigantic hands in her petite, pink-tipped ones.

"I don't know," she answered honestly, shadowing his previous smile. The two sat in silence for a few moments before Buffy spoke up, wanting to talk to Sam about his newly-discovered psychicness. "I know you're freaked out about your visions." He looked up, startled. "I was freaked out, too. Well, probably not as much as you cause, you know, part of the Slayer package. At first, I thought they were just weird, vivid dreams, but then they started coming true. I dreamed that I was going to die, and BAM! That night, there I was, lying dead in a pool of gross, muddy water. And don't even get me started on the shared Slayer dreams I had with Faith!" Sam was looking at her with wide eyes, and she realized that she had rushed out her whole speech in one breath. _Babbling, you're babbling. Stop it_. "So, yeah... Your visions. How long have you been having them?"

"Since just before Jessica... you know." The wound from the death of his girlfriend was still raw, and she could tell that it still caused him a lot of pain. It really hadn't been that long, and she knew that he never talked about it. Like his brother, he was learning to keep things all bottled up. She only hoped that she could pull it out of him before he exploded. "Before she died, I dreamed about it every night, night after night. I'd see her there, on the ceiling, going up in flames." His voice dipped an octave, and he swiped the back of the hand not nestled in hers across his eyes. Alright, so maybe his wall wasn't as high or sturdy as his brother's.

"You couldn't have done anything, Sam," Buffy said softly, dropping his hand from hers and enveloping him in a big hug. She felt tears prickling at the corner of her eyes, but she held them back. She had to be strong. He needed her to be strong. He hugged her back, clinging to her small frame, but when she pulled back, he refused to look at her. "Hey." She grabbed his chin in his and tilted it up so that he was looking straight into her eyes. "You couldn't have done anything. You didn't know."

"I could have saved her." He sounded so miserable that it broke her heart, and she pulled him in for another hug. He nestled his face in her blonde hair and wrapped his arms around her waist. "She didn't have to die." This came out muffled, from tears or his position so close to her neck she didn't know. "And after... After, they stopped for a while. The next time it happened, it was about our house in Kansas."

"That's good," Buffy reassured him, drawing lazy circles on his back with her hand. "It seems to only happen when it's closely related to you or your family. Now that you know what they are, you can help. You saved Jenny and her kids, didn't you?" She pulled back from their embrace, putting on a false mega-watt smile in an attempt to cheer him up. "Don't worry. I'll be the one getting the mind splitting headache visions of vamps and slimy purple demons." He chuckled, releasing his grip from around her waist. At the sound of a lock clicking, the two looked toward the bathroom door in time to see Dean emerge, a muscle in his jaw ticking slightly.

"Come on. Let's go."

…...

Buffy had lost count of how long they had been in the car. All she knew was that she was cramped into a very uncomfortable position in the back seat and that the air conditioning wasn't working. A thin trickle of sweat wove its way down her spine, and she shifted, groaning inwardly. They had barely stopped, the two boys switching off driving, but a short time, and several bathroom breaks, later, they were in a little town called Rockford.

Half an hour ago, they had pulled up in front of a seedy-looking bar called "The Old Terminal Pub" that was attached to an equally seedy-looking motel. The Slayer had grown used to their accommodations and could now walk into a room with only a wrinkled nose or soft tsssh at the tacky decor. After emptying the trunk of their duffel bags, they had wandered over to the pub to look for the partner of the cop, Kelly, that they were investigating. Apparently, he had killed himself and his wife after visiting the town's asylum, and there had been no signs of depression or problems in their marriage. Sounded like foul play to her. While Dean made a bee-line for a middle aged black man in a jacket suspiciously similar to his own trademark leather one, Buffy and Sam dispersed around the room.

Dressed in a newly-acquired outfit of tight, black leather pants and a midriff-bearing red halter top, the blonde sauntered across the bar toward the pool tables, catching every eye that she passed. It was all part of her plan. They had discovered that it had been easier for her than the boys to con bar patrons out of their money due to her certain... assets. Apparently, men would shell out good money to see her bent over the pool table, her long, blonde hair cascading down around her shoulders and her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth in mock concentration. She also made sure to lick her lips a lot. They didn't seem to mind loosing to her as long as they could look at her. Of course, this tactic came with the usual amount of unwanted advances, but hey. She was the Slayer. A few gropey men she could deal with.

She perched herself on the edge of a stool by the pool table, eyes zeroing in on her target. He was younger than the other men in the bar by at least ten years, and he was relatively handsome. He was talk, dark, handsome, and actually quite yummy. She smiled. Totally the type of guy she would go for if she didn't have her own hottie. The blonde glanced over her shoulder, seeing the object of her affection sliding up to who she assumed was Kelly's partner.

Satisfied that he didn't seem to be in any immediate danger, she turned her attention to the man in front of her. He had just finished up a game with an older man, who was currently walking away from the table and cursing under his breath.

"Hi," she purred, making sure to make her eyes look as wide and her mouth as pouty as possible. Part of her loved playing the sex kitten, as she had never really been able to play the part in her previous life, but another, smaller part, was scared at how much she had changed. The last few months with the Winchester brothers had transformed her into a woman that she hardly recognized.

"Why, hello there." He walked over to her with a swagger in his step that she was sure was intended solely for her. "I'm Greg. What's a pretty little thing like you doing in a bar like this?"

_Gag me._

She smirked and gestured to the pool stick in his hand.

"Buffy. I was hoping that I could play with you." Emphasis on the word play. He smirked right back at her and handed her the stick. As he started to rack up the balls, she slid up next to him and fixed him with her patented Buffy smile. "I'm afraid I'm not very good, though."

"Hey, buddy, how 'bout leavin' the poor guy alone, huh?" Sam's voice rang loudly around the room, and Greg turned to locate the source of the disturbance. Buffy didn't bother. She knew their plan. Dean would pretend to be a reporter and harass the guy for information. Then, Sam, the white knight that he was, would barge into the conversation in an attempt to get the guy to trust him. It hadn't failed them yet. Turning his attention back to the petite blonde in front of him, Greg smiled and placed a hand on her arm.

"That's alright, sweetheart. I'll give you some pointers." Buffy let him "teach" her for a good half an hour, and afterward, she suggested that they make it interesting. He chucked at her self-confidence and accepted, and after a quick game where she pretended that every shot she made was an accident, she walked away with four hundred dollars. Afterward, he had offered to walk her back to her room, but she politely declined. He had taken it rather well and had let her walk off without doing anything that would cause her to break his hands. A few minutes later, she sauntered into their hotel room with four hundred dollar bills tucked safely into the pocket of her skin-tight leather pants.

"Ta-dah!" she announced, bursting through the door and dropping the money into Dean's lap. He looked rather impressed. "Dinner's on me tonight, boys." She dropped down on the bed next to her lover, and he gave her a quick peck on the lips in greeting. The girl inside her did a little happy dance at the gesture. "So," she said, turning toward Sam. "What'd you find out?"

"A lot," he answered, not even trying to hide his smirk at their little coupley moment. She sent him a mock glare in return, but it quickly dissolved into a badly-repressed smile. At a pointed look from the blonde in front of him, he continued. A few minutes later, she had heard all about the crazies housed in the asylum before it was closed up in the late 60s. He finished up his little speech with a "we'll check it out first thing in the morning."

Buffy sighed. She hated their obsession with "first thing in the morning." Her nocturnal lifestyle made it very difficult for her to get up at sunrise due to the fact that she would most likely get in only a couple of hours earlier, but she nodded anyways.

"Yeah, sure thing." Pulling apart from Dean, she got up from the bed and walked over to her duffel. She grabbed two stakes and a small knife, and after hiding them under her clothes, a difficult task given their tightness, she turned toward the door.

"And where do you think you're going?" Dean asked, not getting up from his reclining position on the lumpy purple comforter. She raised an eyebrow at him before answering.

"Out slaying. Those pesky vamps aren't going to kill themselves." He didn't look too happy about it, but he nodded.

"Did you want to change into something more comfortable?" Dean asked, looking as if he wanted anything but for her to change out of her revealing outfit. She smirked, seeing the way his green eyes were drawn to the flat expanse of skin between her top and pants. "I just mean..." He shook himself out of his daze and gestured at her knee-high, spike-heeled boots.

"I'm good," she answered flippantly. "I've slayed much scarier things wearing much less." She turned and headed out the door without waiting to see the shocked expressions that she was sure had appeared on both of their faces.

…...

An couple of later, all she had managed to kill were a couple of fledglings and her new manicure. She had disposed of them easily and engaged in a moment of silence for her pretty pink nails before wandering the small town. Then she had discovered the old Rooselvelt Asylum.

It was a huge, looming stone building with various broken windows. The paint was chipping, exposing the brick underneath, and graffiti was scrawled across most of the reachable surfaces. In the dark, it looked especially menacing, and Buffy had to suppress a shudder.

"Well, that's not the creepiest thing ever."

She knew that the boys would kill her, but there was no harm in just poking around a little. Effortlessly jumping the fence, she headed up the stone steps, her heeled boots making loud clicking noises that echoed into the quiet night. Reaching out her hand, she grasped the bulky iron handle and was about to tug lightly on it before something stopped her.

_She was sitting in the corner of a bright white, sterile room. Her knees were drawn up to her chest, and she was pressed back against the cool surface with her head was resting against the wall behind her._

"_You know we can't take you home, Buffy," Hank reasoned with her, bringing up a hand to stroke at the side of her face. _

"_But Daddy, I want to come home!" She was sobbing now, fat tears leaking from her wide green eyes and trailing down her pale cheeks. She had no idea how long she had been in here, forced away from her family and friends. Her father looked at her sympathetically, using his hand to brush away the tears that were willing onto her white gown. "With you and Mom! I hate it here!"_

"_I know," he said, drawing the shaking girl in front of him into a tight embrace. "I know sweetie, but you know you can't leave until you're better. The doctor is only trying to help you. He can make you better." At the click of a lock, the blonde's eyes snapped to the door that had opened to reveal her mother in a plain green dress._

"_They're not real!" she burst out, pulling away from her father as she launched herself at her mother. The older woman tensed slightly before wrapping her arms around her sobbing daughter. "The vampires! They're not real! I made them up!" There was a pause as they regarded her in silence. "Can I go home now?"_

Buffy snatched her hand away from the door as if burned, her eyes wide as the memory consumed her. Without another glance at the place, she turned on her heel and sprinted back to the motel room, her eyes filling with tears as the wind whipped at her face and hair. She continued to run long after her lungs burned with the lack of oxygen and her muscles screamed in protest. Finally, what seemed like hours later, she burst into the gaudily decorated room, startling Sam and Dean awake. Panting for breath, her legs finally gave out, and she tumbled onto the scratchy green carpet. As two lights flickered on, tears continued to pour from her eyes, and she sobbed unabashedly into her hands.

In a second, Dean was at her side, gathering her up into his arms and carrying her over to the bed.

…...

She awoke a couple of hours later to an empty room. Spotting a note on the nightstand, she sat up, letting the white sheet drop to reveal one of Dean's shirts, and grabbed it, squinting in an attempt to decipher Dean's scribbled letters.

_Out getting some coffee and breakfast. We'll bring you back something._

The note was curt and to the point, but she knew that it was out of worry and not anger. With a sigh, she stood up and stretched, noticing that the clothes she was wearing last night were draped over one of the chairs in the corner. Buffy smiled, bringing the collar of the t-shirt she was wearing up to her nose and taking in all the goodness that was Dean before stripping it, and her underwear, off and heading for the bathroom.

Turning on the water in the shower to almost scalding hot, she stepped back to look at herself in the mirror. She took a deep breath. _Pull it together_, she told herself. _That was years ago. You're not there anymore. _The Slayer shook her head to clear her thoughts. Her little visit to the asylum had shaken her, but she had a job to do. She could handle it. Doing a perfect imitation of Willow's resolve face, she turned away from the mirror and back to the shower.

Dean was waiting for her when she got out. He looked up when she entered the room, clad in only a towel with steam streaming out of the bathroom behind her.

"Hi," she greeted, smiling slightly. He didn't smile back. She looked around, his little brother nowhere to be seen. "Where's Sam?"

"He'll be back soon." There were a few seconds of silence as Dean sat down on the edge of their bed. "What happened last night?" The Slayer sighed at the concern lacing his voice and sat down next to him, frowning slightly. There was another pause as she debated what to tell him.

"You know how I was called when I was fifteen?" He nodded. She looked down at her hands. "Back when I saw my first vampires... I got so scared. I told my parents, and they completely freaked out. They thought there was something seriously wrong with me. So they sent me to a clinic." Buffy paused and looked up at the man beside her. Dean was staring down at her with wide eyes, his mouth slightly open. "I was only there a couple of weeks." Her voice hitched, and she once again looked down at where her hands were twisting in her lap. She jumped slightly as Dean wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulder but quickly relaxed and tried to compose herself. "I stopped talking about it, and they let me go. Eventually... my parents just... forgot."

"Wow."

"Yeah," the blonde said with a shaky laugh. "I guess telling them was probably a bad idea, but I was so scared. When I saw the Roosevelt Asylum last night-..."

"What?" he cut her off, his voice surprised and slightly angry. "What were you doing there? You should have waited for us!" Squashing her annoyed reaction to his over protectiveness, she continued, her voice noticeably stronger than before his outburst.

"Calm down, I didn't go in. I just happened to wander past it." She left out the part were she was about to go in before the memory of her stay in the Los Angeles clinic had assaulted her. "For some reason, it scared me. I guess it... reminded me of..." She trailed off, and Dean tightened his grip around her shoulders.

"You don't have to go. Sam and I-..."

"No," she said, her voice sounding far stronger than she felt. "I'll come." With a nod, he let her go, and she stood up to gather some fresh clothes for the day. A few minutes later, she returned dressed in a knee-length green skirt and a white t-shirt.

This time, both Sam and Dean were waiting for her, and from the look of things, Dean had told his brother what had happened. He gave her a sympathetic look as he handed her her coffee, and after grabbing their jackets, they were out the door.

…...

It had taken them only fifteen minutes to get to the asylum, and after grabbing flashlights and a couple of EMF meters, they were ready to go. Buffy watched through the chain link fence as Dean did a flip over it that looked as if it was purely out of luck that he didn't slip and bash his head in on the concrete below. He straightened up, looking rather proud of himself.

"That was sort of sexy," she commented with a smile, and he grinned at her. Then she bent her legs, and with minimal effort jumped over the fence without even touching it. His smile faded.

"Show off." She grinned at him and stuck her tongue out playfully before following Sam inside. The interior of the building was even more run-down and graffiti-covered than the exterior. The Slayer slipped her hand into Dean's and looked around, wrinkling her nose in disgust. The entrance hall was scattered with papers, beer and liquor bottles, and broken furniture. Who the hell would want to party in an abandoned insane asylum? With a squeeze, he dragged her forward after Sam.

"So apparently," the taller Winchester started, gesturing to his right, "the cops chased the kids here. Into the South Wing." Buffy glanced to her right as well and saw a white door with a sign declaring "South Wing" above it.

"The South Wing, huh?" Dean dropped her hand and reached inside his jacket, bringing out their father's journal. There were a few moments of flipping through the pages before he looked up triumphantly. "'In 1972, three kids broke into the south wing. Only one survived.'" He paused, closing the journal and slipping it back into the pocket of his jacket. "The way he tells it, one of his friends went nuts and started lightin' up the place." Buffy pulled away and walked toward the door, her eyes zeroing in on a chain wrapped around one of the handles.

"So, whatever's goin' on, South Wing seems like the heart of it," Sam said, nodding.

"Yeah, but if kids are spelunking the asylum, why aren't there a ton more deaths?"

"It was chained," Buffy said, running her fingers over the rusting metal. "Probably for years after those kids died."

"Yeah, to keep people out... Or to keep somethin' in," Dean supplied, and the Slayer frowned. Yeah, that wasn't ominous at all. Reaching forward, she pushed the door open slightly, revealing an equally dirty and dingy hallway. Behind her, the two boys exchanged looks.

"Well, what are we waiting for?"

As they walked through the halls of the South Wing, Buffy in the lead, Dean kept his eyes glued to his EMF meter. Buffy had her eyes closed, her arms outstretched so that her fingertips could brush against the bumpy walls. They were discolored and peeling, and she made a mental note to stick her hands in a bucket of antibacterial when they got out of this hell hole.

"Let me know if you see any dead people, Haley Joel," came Dean's voice, and she glanced backwards to see the brothers once again involved in a bickering match. 

"Dude, enough," Sam countered, clearly exasperated, but Dean only chuckled.

"No, I'm serious, you've gotta be careful, all right? Ghosts are attracted to that whole ESP thing you've got goin' on."

"I told you, it's not ESP. I just have strange vibes sometimes, weird dreams." Buffy sighed, shaking her head. Those two really needed to be locked in a room together so that they could work out all of their feelings. Maybe some kind of oil could be involved. The thought had her smiling. "Besides, Buffy has them, too." The smile faded.

"Yeah, whatever," Dean answered gruffly, clearly not wanting to tease her about her abilities. That was saved for his brother alone.

"You gettin' a reading on that thing or not?" Buffy returned her gaze to in front of her, and sighed, dropping her arms to her side.

"Nope," Dean answered. "Of course, it doesn't mean nobody's home."

"Spirits can appear during certain hours of the day," Sam added helpfully, as he followed her along the dimly-lit corridor.

"No, they're here," the blond said. Stupid ghosts. What she wouldn't give for a vampire or demon right now. "They just don't want to be found yet." There were a few seconds of silence as the boys took in what she said.

"Hey, Sam," Dean asked, his voice once again light and teasing. "Who do you think is a hotter psychic: Patricia Arquette, Jennifer Love Hewitt, or you?" There was a loud smack as Sam hit his brother on the arm, and Buffy found her self chuckling right along with the older man. Feeling a familiar tingling sensation at the base of her neck, she took a hard right and turned into a musty, even dimer-lit room. The large, formerly-tiled room was littered with wheelchairs, tables, screens, and other medical equipment. Even more disturbing were the surfaces covered with jars containing body parts floating in some sort of liquid and other tools. She stopped abruptly, causing Dean to run into her back. He stumbled, but she remained perfectly still, her eyes wide as they swept over the room.

"Hey, you okay?" his soothing voice whispered in her ear, and she nodded absently, taking a step forward.

"Well... this isn't traumatizing at all." This asylum made her stay in the one in LA look like a five-star hotel. As they walked into the room, the two of them coughed and gagged at the smell of decaying body parts and general lack of upkeep, but the Slayer pressed ahead, used to the stench of death. Dean let out a low whistle as he followed along behind her. He tapped a couple times on the silent EMF before turning it off and stowing it in his jacket pocket.

"Man," Dean said, looking around in awe at the various equipment. "Electroshock, lobotomies. They did some twisted stuff to these people. Kind of like my man, Jack in Cuckoo's Nest." He grinned wickedly, but Sam only rolled his eyes, and his smile faded. Buffy didn't respond, too intrigued and disgusted by the stuff scattered around on the table in front of her. She picked up a child's doll with a missing head before gently setting it back down and turning away. "So, what do you think? Ghosts are possessing people?"

"Maybe." Neither of them touched anything, but they did slowly make their way around the room. "Or maybe it's more like, uh, like Amityville or the Smurl haunting."

"Yeah, spirits drivin' 'em insane," Dean agreed. "Kind of like my man Jack in The Shining." This time, Sam managed a forced chuckle, but once again, Dean's smile faded at his lack of enthusiasm. This time, Buffy was the one rolling her eyes, but hers was in amusement. The man didn't know when to quit.

"Dean... when are we gonna talk about it?" Sam asked, stopping his movement around the room.

"Talk about what?"

"About the fact that Dad's not here." Buffy's eyes widened, and she panicked slightly, wanting to get away as fast as she could.

"I'm just going to..." she trailed off with a cough, pointing toward the opposite corner of the room and practically fleeing the vicinity. Finally. It might not be the best place to has things out, but at least they were trying. Well, Sam was trying, she amended as she heard Dean's response.

"Oh, uh, let's see, never." She busied herself by shifting through a pile of papers on an over-crowded desk but was unable to fully block out their conversation. Stupid Slayer hearing. A couple of dead bugs fell out of the book she was examining, and she let out a loud squeak. Ghosts she could deal with. Bugs? Not so much. With their creepy, wavy little legs and huge, non-blinking eyes. She shuddered and dropped the book so that it once again covered up the offending creatures. 

"I'm being serious, man."

"So am I, Sam. Look, he sent us here, he obviously wants us here. We'll just have to pick up the search later."

"It doesn't matter what he wants."

"See, that attitude right there?" Dean paused, and Buffy could tell from the tone of his voice that he was about to make a joke. She sighed. "That is why I always get the extra cookie." 

"Dad could be in trouble. We should be looking for him. We deserve some answers, Dean, I mean, this is our family we're talkin' about." She was doing remarkably well, the blonde thought to herself. Since her little outburst the night before, she hadn't broken down again. See? She could do it. That was almost five years ago, and she was here to do a job. People's lives were at risk. She could totally do it. Her fingers absently trailed over a few jars containing some questionable-looking things. She snatched her hand back with a disgusted look on her face. _Note to self. Stop touching things._

"I understand that, Sam. But he's given us an order."

"So, what? We've got to always follow Dad's orders?"

"Of course we do." It seemed as if the discussion was over, and Buffy glanced over he shoulder to see Dean turning away from his brother. Sam gave him an annoyed look but followed his lead and continued to look around. Deeming the situation once again safe to return to, Buffy weaved her way through the room and stopped at Dean's side just as he picked up a dusty, rusting plaque declaring 'Chief of Staff. Sanford Ellicott, M.D.' "Sanford Ellicott. You know what we've got to do? We've gotta find out more about the South Wing, and see if somethin' happened here." And without another word to either of them, he had disappeared from the room after handing Sam the plaque. With a wide-eyed glance at the tall man next to her, Buffy forced a smile and followed the two brothers out of the room, down the maze of corridors, and out of the Roosevelt Asylum.

It was going to be a long day.

…...


	10. Asylum Part 2

Disclaimer: Joss owns Buffy, and Kripke owns Sam, Dean, and the plot of Asylum. Anything recognizable isn't mine!

Thank you guys for your amazing reviews! I'm glad that you're enjoying reading this story as much as I'm enjoying writing it! Love to Princesakarlita411, BloodyPasion, aparas, and daring2dream! Keep em coming! Reviews are like cookies to my muse! :)

…...

The sun was resting low on the horizon when they arrived back at Roosevelt Asylum. A soft red light blanketed the sleep town, and the wind had started to pick up, sending dry leaves swirling around Buffy's booted feet. She shivered and pulled her jacket tighter around her, suddenly wishing that she had dressed in warmer clothes.

They had known that the asylum's ghosties wouldn't show themselves until after dark, so the Slayer and the Winchesters had spent the remainder of the day finding out all they could about the facility and it's unsurprisingly dark past. They had split up, Dean heading for the Library and Sam for a doctor in town who shared the last name of the Chief of Staff at the former asylum. Buffy had opted to check out the diner across the street from their motel, and thanks to a poor, unsuspecting busboy had learned all about the local legends of the institution.

After meeting back up and sharing all of the information that they had gathered about the Roosevelt Asylum and the grisly riot that had occurred there, they had suited up and driven back to the abandoned building as soon as the sun had begun to set.

"Well," the blonde muttered sarcastically to herself, eying the now dark asylum warily. "This is much less creepy than before." The comment earned a snort from Dean, but he didn't respond. Two soft clicks sounded through the uneasy silence of the hallway as Sam and Dean turned on their flashlights, but Buffy simply continued to walk forward slowly, her enhanced senses allowing her to see perfectly in the almost pitch black darkness. The tingling at the base of her neck was back, and her Slayer senses were on high alert due to all of the supernatural activity buzzing all around her. It was starting to make her dizzy.

"Getting readings?" Sam asked from behind her, and she knew that they had broken out the EMF meter and video camera. Buffy shook her head to regain her focus, and her hand brushed absently over the stake hidden in the front pocket of her skirt. She knew that it would be no use against ghosts, but the familiar weight was comforting all the same.

"Yeah, big time," came Dean's response, and there was a soft tapping as he flicked the beeping instrument in his hand.

"This place is orbing like crazy." Buffy smiled softly at all of their little Ghostbuster-esque gadgets, but then again, not everyone was able to sense the spirits without them. She was just lucky like that, she guessed. She continued down the dirty hallway with her hands at her sides, only half listening as the boys continued their conversation behind her. "There's probably multiple spirits out and about." 

"There's dozens," she supplied, stopping and turning toward them. "I can feel them," she clarified as they looked at her quizzically. The sheer volume of them was making it difficult to pinpoint which ones meant them harm, but she could tell that not all of them did. She groaned, that didn't help them at all.

"Well, that's..." She watched as Dean struggled to come up with a word to replace 'creepy.' "Handy." They shared a smile as they continued down the hall. This time, Dean fell into step with her, leaving Sam trailing a couple of steps behind them.

"If these unrecovered bodies are causing the haunting..."

"We've gotta find 'em and burn 'em," Dean jumped in, finishing his brother's thought. "Just be careful, though. The only thing that makes me more nervous than a pissed-off spirit is the pissed-off spirit of a psycho killer." They continued walking in silence for a few seconds before a heavy set of footprints sounded behind them. All three whipped around at the noise, but Sam's large fingers closed around Buffy's wrist as she moved toward it.

"You won't be able to hurt it," he supplied. Oh, right. Stupid ghosts. "Come on. Let's hurry and find the bodies." He tugged her forward, and she nodded. With a small smile, he let go of her wrist and followed after Dean, who had already resumed his journey down the corridor. Trailing after Sam but still glancing over her shoulder at the noise, Buffy followed the brothers into a room to the left. She squinted her eyes, trying to make out any movement in the sparsely furnished room.

"You know, this makes me really miss vamps," the blonde quipped. "They're easy. No muss, no fuss, none of this being invisible crap. Just a stake to the heart and BAM. Ash city." Not seeing anything, she turned back around, only to see an older woman in a gray dress standing right behind Sam. Sam, who still had his eyes glued to the video camera screen, had yet to notice her. "Sam!" He spun around to look at her, and almost fell over backwards as he finally caught sight of the woman. Her face was bloody, and there was a large hole where her left eye should be. Sam dropped his arms to his side and retreated as she ambled toward him, arms outstretched in front of her.

"Dean. Dean!" Sam called surprisingly calmly, knowing that his brother was the one carrying the bag loaded with salt guns. In the blink of an eye, Buffy was at his side and rooting through the duffel filled with weapons before he could. With a flourish, she extracted one of the sawed-off shot guns and aimed it at the woman.

"Sam, get down!" Dean ordered, clearly panicked, and the taller of the two ducked just in time as the Slayer pulled the trigger. The salt-filled bullet hit the woman right through the head, and she disintegrated into thin air. The two turned to Buffy, who was still pointing the gun at Sam with her mouth open in shock. "Huh. That was impressive."

She had never been good at guns. Both of them, not to mention Riley, and tried and failed to teach her how to aim properly, but despite her usual natural talent for weapons, she had never gotten the hang of it. Her and guns had always been unmixy things.

"Did you see that?" she asked excitedly, ignoring the amused looks on both of their faces. "I totally hit her! She went poof and everything!"

"Yeah, yeah," Sam responded, his tone light and joking. "Just watch where you point that thing. I could have lost an eye!" She glared playfully at their shared laughter but easily handed the gun back to Dean, knowing that it had been a lucky shot. Sam was right, she had had just as much of a chance of hitting him as the lady-ghost. Maybe even more, she thought, because of his Sasquatch height.

"That was weird," Sam said, panting slightly from both shock at the attack and his short burst of laughter. All of the amusement had faded from the room, and they were back to business. Dean riffled through the bag one-handed and extracted an iron crow bar, which he then handed to her. She smiled, liking the feel of it in her hand much more than the gun. After an experimental twirl, she deduced that this was safer. With this, there was no way that she could accidentally wound one of them with a stray shell. Yes, this would work fine.

"Yeah, you're tellin' me." Dean turned and walked out of the room and back into the hall. His voice was nonchalant, but Buffy noticed the way he was still clutching the shotgun. With a glance at Sam, she followed him out of the filthy room. 

"No, Dean," Sam said, stepping into the hall after them. "I mean it was weird that she didn't attack me." Dean shrugged.

"Looked pretty aggro from where I was standing."

"Yeah," the Slayer piped up, glancing into room to her left as she passed it. Ew, were those mice? "The bleeding, empty eye socket was really comforting." 

"She didn't hurt me," he insisted, easily keeping up with her purposeful strides due to his long legs. "She didn't even try. So if she didn't wanna hurt me, then what did she want?" Not having an answer, the three continued down the corridor in silence. Then, Buffy's bionic Slayer hearing picked up a small scuffling sound from the room to her right, and she stopped, holding up a hand to signal for the boys to do the same. Cautiously peering into the room, she saw a rusty bed frame propped up on its side in the corner, clearly hiding whatever was behind it. Crouching low to the ground, she inched forward, one arm outstretched and the other gripping the crowbar tightly. Looking back, she saw that the boys had snuck in behind her, Dean holding his shotgun at the ready and Sam with the flashlight raised.

_One_, she mouthed, holding up a finger. _Two_, another finger. _Three_.

She swiftly grabbed the bed frame with her free hand and easily flung it to the side. She raised the iron rod, ready to strike, but stopped when she saw the teenage girl cowering before her. She was dressed casually in a sweater and jeans, and she was clearly terrified. Lowering her weapon, she saw Dean do the same. The girl blinked wildly at the light still shining into her eyes, and Buffy motioned for Sam to point the flashlight away from her.

"It's alright," Dean said, smiling his patented-Dean smile but making no move to step toward her. "We're not gonna hurt you. It's okay." Buffy reached forward and helped the girl to her feet before stepping back. She nodded at the brothers. She was definitely human. Dean seemed to relax after that. "What's your name?"

"Katherine," she said, her voice still shaky. "Kat."

"Okay," Dean answered, nodding and letting his arms drop to the side. "I'm Dean. This is Buffy and Sam." Buffy smiled at the girl, trying her best to reassure her that they meant her no harm.

"What are you doing here?" She was pretty sure she knew the answer.

"Um..." her gaze flitted between her three rescuers, still unsure of whether or not to trust them. "My boyfriend, Gavin..."

"Is he here?" Dean interrupted.

"Somewhere." Buffy sighed, trying her hardest not to roll her eyes. If those kids were here to play around with the ghosties... "He thought it would be fun to try and see some ghosts." _Ding ding_. "I thought it was all just, you know... pretend. I've seen things. I heard Gavin scream." Stupid teenagers.

"Okay, Kat," Dean started, shouldering his shotgun and regarding the taller blonde in front of him. "Come on, Sam's gonna get you out of here, and then we're gonna find your boyfriend." He gestured toward the door, but all she did was shake her head.

"No, no. I'm not gonna leave without Gavin. I'm coming with you."

"It's no joke around here, okay? It's dangerous." Buffy knew he was getting annoyed, but she couldn't blame the girl. She could never leave her boyfriend, or anyone really, alone in a creepy, abandoned mental institution. Though, of course, she _did_ have a bit more experience with baddies than Kat...

"That's why I've gotta find him." She did a pretty spot-on impression of Willow's resolve face, and Dean sighed, instantly caving. Buffy smiled but turned so that he couldn't see her. Boys were so easy.

"Well that's settled then!" Her voice was more chipper than necessary, causing the other three to stare at her, but she wanted to move things along. As soon as they found her boyfriend, they could get the two teenagers out of there and complete their hunt. Maybe they'd even get back to the motel in time to squeeze in a few games of pool. But then again, this was her. With her, nothing ever went according to plan. "Dean, Sam, you go look for Gavin. Kat, you come with me." Kat looked like she was about to object, but Sam quickly cut her off, knowing what she was thinking. 

"Don't worry," he said, breaking out his patented puppy dog eyes. "You'll be safe with her, and we'll find Gavin quicker this way."

"Well," Kat said reluctantly, looking skeptically at the girl next to her, but she didn't say continue. Sam gave her an encouraging smile. "Alright..."

"Great!" The false enthusiasm was back. "Okay, let's go, then. Be careful." Dean nodded at her before handing her a flashlight and following Sam down the hallway. With a sigh and one last glance at their retreating forms, Buffy ushered Kat in the opposite direction. The two blondes walked in silence for a few minutes before Kat broke the tension.

"So ghosts... They're real?" Congratulations! You win this gold watch and a year's supply of Ben and Jerry's! Buffy was able to successfully bite back one of her trademark sarcastic comments and nodded.

"Yep," she answered, popping the 'p.' The girl was scared enough without her making it any worse. She wasn't used to dealing with scared civilians. That was Sam's job. She always just slayed the baddies without them realizing that anything was wrong in the first place. "Unfortunately."

"And you fight them?" There was an edge of curiosity and surprise in her voice that Buffy was used to hearing. She was petite, after all, even shorter than the girl walking along side her. It probably didn't help, either, that she was wearing a short jean skirt, leather jacket, and high-heeled leather boots. Not the typical attire of hunters, but hey, she was always special like that. She looked down at her nails in dismay; they were already starting to chip.

"Yeah, I do." The Slayer shouldered her weapon, tired of having to hold it up so that it wouldn't scrape against the dirty linoleum beneath her feet. The heels of her boots clicked against the tile as Kat scrambled to keep up with her. A circle of light bobbed on front of them as they made their way down the dark hallway. Buffy had given Kat the flashlight, as she didn't really need it, and she guessed that it would make the girl feel safer if she was in control of the light.

"But... how? You're just a girl!" Buffy smiled sadly, looking over at the other blonde.

"That's what I keep telling them." Suddenly, there was a loud banging noise, and the two stopped walking.

"Gavin? Gavin!" Kat called out, but there was no answer. Buffy squinted, straining to hear any follow-up noises. She heard nothing, but her spidey sense gave a warning pulse. Then she felt Kat's hand wrap around her arm, and the flashlight went out.

"Are you alright?" She looked to her right only to see the girl two feet away from her, her hands clutching the non-working flashlight to her chest. "What the-...?" Ger gaze shifted to where something was trying to squeeze the life out of her arm. The dirty hand yanked her forward, and a second later, she found herself staring at a rusting metal door. She heard the clang of her weapon hit the floor as the door swung shut, separating her from the girl she was supposed to be protecting. Ignoring Kat's screams, she dropped back against the door and glanced around the small, dirty room with a sigh. It was empty except for a few loose papers littering the ground, and the window was covered with several metal bars. "Oh, great. That's just... great." She threw her hands up in the air in exasperation and turned back toward the door. She kicked it a few times in frustration, but it didn't budge. There were now a few deep dents in the metal, but the door stayed glued shut.

"Buffy!" Kat was hysterically crying out to her and banging her fists ineffectively against the door. Hearing a whisper, she spun around and found herself face to face with a dirty man with long, stringy brown hair. He was wearing a similar uniform as the first ghost lady, but he was wearing gray pants instead of a dress. He wasn't bloody, though, which was a plus. Cursing at herself for dropping the crowbar outside, she swung at him, watching as he predictably disappeared before her fist could make contact. She hadn't really expected it to do anything, but she was nothing if not persistent. Feeling a presence behind her, she lashed out, but he again disappeared before she could reach him. Backing up against the door, she dropped into a fighting stance as her brain scrambled to figure out what to do.

"Oooooh, so scary." Apparently, her brain had settled on taunting. "Come out and fight, you stupid... ghost man." She winced. Okay, not her best work. The man appeared against the far wall by the window, and the Slayer sighed. Well, this wasn't good.

"Buffy!" From the sound of things, Sam and Dean had joined Kat on the other side of the door.

"Yeah," she called back, watching warily as the spirit walked toward her slowly with his arms outstretched. How very zombie-esque. "We kind of got a problem... Casper here seems to have taken a liking to me." He was getting closer, now, and she had yet to come up with a plan.

"The spirits, they're not trying to hurt us, they're trying to communicate." Sam's voice was muffled by the thick door, but Buffy could still hear him clearly. "You've gotta listen to it, you've gotta face it." The blonde made a face.

"Ew, no," she whined, wrinkling her nose in disgust. "It's all... gross and dirty and crazy. You face it!" The argument sounded lame even to her own ears.

"Buffy." His voice was stern, leaving no room for argument. She could practically hear him rolling his eyes at her.

"Dammit, fine! But if I die, I am totally coming back and haunting your ass!" She huffed, crossing her arms, but stayed still as the man stopped in front of her and leaned into her ear. One thirty seven, it said in barely a whisper. It pulled back, and she swore it smiled at her before disappearing. "You could have just said that, you know!" she yelled at the now empty room. "You didn't have to get all grabby!" Buffy heard a loud clicking sound and turned just in time to see the door swing open. Still grumbling about gropey spirits, she stepped into the hallway. The second she step foot out of the room, Dean grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her toward him, his right hand tangling in her blonde hair in order to pull her closer. Buffy gasped as his lips claimed hers, but she quickly returned the kiss equally as passionately. His other hand snaked down to her waist, clutching her tight and pressing the shotgun hard against her back. Not that she minded, of course.

Then, she was pulled back to reality as Sam cleared his throat. Loudly.

"Oh," the Slayer said, blushing slightly as she stepped out of Dean's embrace. He pouted slightly but grinned as she gave him an exasperated look. "Right. One thirty seven." His grin turned to a raised eyebrow.

"Sorry?" Another exasperated look.

"Casper, the smelly, creepy ghost in there." She accepted the lost crowbar that Sam handed her with a smile and used it to gesture in the direction of the room she had just emerged from. "He said, 'one thirty seven.'" The brothers exchanged a look.

"Room number?" Sam asked, and the Slayer nodded.

"That's what I'm thinking." Looking around, she saw that a third boy dressed in a warm, brown coat with a sheepskin lining, blue plaid shirt, and jeans was staring at her with wide eyes. "Oh, hi." His gaze snapped up from her bare legs to her face. "I'm Buffy."

"Gavin," he managed, though he was clearly still shaken up. She offered him a smile, much like she had Kat when she had first met her. During their interaction, Sam and Dean had dropped the duffel bag to the ground and were crouched around it, pulling out two shot guns and two flashlights. She hadn't even noticed that they had put their weapons away.

"Alright," Sam started. They both stood up, Dean shouldering the duffel. "All right, so if these spirits aren't trying to hurt anyone-..."

"Then what are they tryin' to do?" Dean interrupted, and Sam gave him a look. 

"Maybe they're not the baddies here," Buffy mused, using the crowbar to scratch her back before letting her arm drop back to her side. "Maybe they're trying to tell us something about this place?"

"I guess we'll find out." Dean turned his attention away from her and back to the two teenagers. "So... now, are you guys ready to leave this place?"

"That's an understatement," Kat answered, but Gavin only managed a weak nod. Poor kid.

"Okay." The older Winchester's face hardened, signaling that he was back to business. He looked at Sam. "You get 'em out of here." Sam nodded. "Room one thirty seven?" he suggested, turning back to the blonde, and she nodded. 

"Why, Mr. Winchester," Buffy smiled and bat her eyelashes at him. "Your date ideas just keep getting better and better!" He scoffed at her before turning and walking away from the small group. "Be safe," she ordered, turning to Sam.

"You know me." He nodded, ushering the two teenagers in the opposite direction that Dean had chosen.

"That's what I'm worried about!" He didn't respond, but she knew that he was smiling. With a smile of her own, she shouldered her weapon and followed after Dean, slowing her pace when she reached his side. They walked in silence for a few minutes before...

"You doin' alright?" He didn't look at her, but she could tell by the gruffness in his voice that he was worried about her. She paused before answering. Surprisingly, she was fine. After her initial freakout at seeing the institution, she had settled into job mode, and it hadn't really bothered her since. But then again, that could be because this asylum was all decrepit and abandoned. It wasn't anything like the sterile, white-walled place that she was forced to stay in. For some reason, she found this place less creepy than the bustling, doctor-filled mental institution in Los Angeles.

"Peachy with a side of keen," came her chipper response, and Dean quirked an eyebrow at her. "No really," she insisted, her voice dropping back to her usual level of enthusiasm. "I'm really fine."

"Alright then." He left it at that and raised his shotgun and flashlight in front of him. They continued down the hallway for a short while, their soft footsteps echoing in and out of the abandoned rooms, before Buffy spotted a rusted plaque announcing their destination.

"One thirty seven!" she said a little too loudly, causing Dean to jump. The blonde smiled apologetically before gesturing at the room on the left. He mock glared at her before grasping the dirty handle and wrenching open the door with some difficulty. Buffy made a face as her eyes swept over the contents of the room. It was dirtier and more disorganized than any of the other rooms they had seen. Almost every piece of furniture had been upended or moved from its original place, and there were pieces of loose paper littering the floor and any flat surface along with discarded surgical tools and equipment. The air was musty and dank, and it was clear that this room had been sealed off for quite some time. "Charming."

"Come on." He placed a hand on the small of her back to guide her into the room, and she frowned slightly at the loss of contact when he removed it in order to explore the far side. Walking over to a rusting file cabinet, he pulled it open and started riffling through the contents haphazardly.

"Now, if I was something creepy and secret, where would I hide...?" the Slayer muttered to herself, closing her eyes and waiting for a sign of what they were looking for. Gotcha! Go super special Slayer senses! Spinning on her heel, she made a beeline past Dean and toward the opposite side of the room, dropping into a crouch in front of some white wooden paneling against the wall. She ran her hands across the rough wood, praying for the Gods of Splinters to go easy on her, before her eyes caught sight of a section with frayed edges. Yanking the wood panel from the wall, she mentally thanked the PTBs before pulling out a leather-bound journal buried between the dusty pipes. "BAHA!" she shouted triumphantly, dropping it onto a nearby desk with a flourish and instantly regretting it as a plume of dust filled the air. "Stupid dust." By this time, Dean had arrived at her side to see what had gotten her so worked up and smiled warmly before undoing the binding on the journal.

"Where did you find this?" he asked, flipping to the first page. _Patient's Journal: An Ongoing and Comprehensive_... She couldn't read any further. No wonder this Ellicot guy was a doctor. He had horrendous handwriting.

"Over there," Buffy answered, pointing to the still revealed clustered of pipes. Dean opened his mouth to say something but his look of excitement was quickly replaced by one of disgust as he continued to turn the yellowing pages. Turning her attention to the book in his hands, the blonde's eyes widened as she took in the far-too-graphic illustrations of instruments and procedures. "Ew?"

"Very." He was still looking a bit paler than usual, and Buffy linked her arm through his and leaned her head against his shoulder. This seemed to calm him a bit. "All work and no play makes Dr. Ellicott a very dull boy." She laughed, smacking him lightly on the arm she was holding.

"You freak!" There were a few seconds of silence as Dean continued to flip through the pages. The blonde sneezed, waving her hands at the copious amounts of dust wafting off of the journal. "C'mon," she prompted, tugging lightly on his arm. "We should go find Sam. You know he gets all huffy and annoyed when we go all research-mode without him."

"Yeah, alright." Closing and rebinding the journal, Dean shifted his arm so that her small hand dropped into his larger one. He smiled, which was returned easily, before guiding her out of the dirty room and into the hallway. The two continued down the hall in comfortable silence, making their way to the front doors where they knew Sam would be waiting for them. As they turned the final corner between them and the entrance way, Buffy heard the cock of a shotgun and in the blink of an eye, instinctively pushed Dean out of the way so that he tumbled to the floor. She didn't have time to move herself out of harm's way, and a second later, she felt a searing pain in her arm that had her crying out and stumbling back against the peeling wall behind her.

"OH MY GOD. OW!" She slid down the wall, panting and wincing as the salt dissolving in the open wounds increased the throbbing in her am. In an instant, Dean was at her side, and Kat and Gavin had rushed down the short hallway toward them. "What is your damage?" She was vaguely aware that she had quoted Cordelia, and one of her bitchier comments at that, but well, getting shot in the arm usually had the potential of turning her into somewhat of a bitch.

"I am so sorry!" Kat's eyes were wide and apologetic. She had dropped the shotgun in her haste to get to the Slayer's side. "I'm so sorry! I thought you were a ghost or something!"

"Does she look like a ghost to you?" Dean was practically yelling now, and Buffy put a hand on his shoulder to calm him down, seeing that Kat was on the verge of hysteria as it was.

"Dean, Dean! I'm fine." He looked at her exasperatedly, before digging through his duffel bag for their emergency medical kit.

"She shot you!" He finally extracted the kit and started pushing at the sleeve of her jacket to get to the wound.

"Stop it," Buffy ordered, shooing his hands away. "I'm fine. See!" She waved the injured arm around, wincing only slightly. Most of the pain had faded, and to be honest, she was more upset that her leather jacket now had a huge hole in it. "Good as new." She stood, causing the others to stand with her, and looked around, noticing that one of the key members of their little group was missing. "Um, where's Sam?"

"He went to the basement," Gavin answered, gesturing back down the hall. "You called him." There was a pause as a feeling of dread filled Buffy's, and probably Dean's, stomach.

"We didn't call him," Dean answered, his face hard as he stopped fussing over Buffy. Oh... crap.

"His cell phone rang. He said it was you." This time, Kat spoke up. Dean's eyes widened, and he nodded before turning on his heel and practically sprinting off.

"Stay here!" he ordered over his shoulder, and before Buffy could argue, he had disappeared out of sight.

"Dammit, Dean! Come back!" It was no use; he was already gone. She sighed, wanting nothing more than to chase after him, but with one look at the shaken teenagers, she knew that they probably needed her more. The boys could handle a simple salt and burn job, even if they happened to run into a few ghosties on the way. Kat and Gavin were clearly terrified, and in Kat's case, very jumpy. The Slayer rubbed her shoulder absently.

"I'm so sorry," Kat apologized again, her eyes glued to the smaller blonde's bleeding upper arm. She hadn't moved to pick up the shotgun that was still lying by her feet. By his lack of talking, Buffy could tell that Gavin was mortified. Whether it was because of his encounter with the ghost or because his girlfriend had shot someone, she didn't know. Probably both.

"It's alright," Buffy assured her, tugging off her leather jacket with her good arm to keep it from pulling at the wound. She was sort of cold now, clad in only a t-shirt and skirt, but it was better than the alternative of more pain. "If it had been a spirit, you would have totally gotten it. Just... look before you shoot next time, huh?" Kat nodded. Buffy dropped to her knees by Dean's discarded duffel bag and, after a few seconds of scrounging around in it, extracted the forgotten med kit. Grabbing a length of gauze wrapping, she wound it around her upper arm before tucking in the ends and giving her elbow an experimental shake. That would do. She'd have Dean look at it when they got back to the motel room. Not that she needed it, of course, because, hey Slayer healing, but it would make him feel better.

"So are you and Dean..." Kat asked curiously, watching as Buffy stood up and walked over to the closed door. At the front of the hallway. The Slayer smiled. If possible, Gavin looked even more horrified than before at the prospect of being included in girl talk.

"I'm not sure." She tugged on the rusting metal handle, but unsurprisingly, it didn't budge. Clearly, if Sam hadn't already gotten these kids out of here, something was wrong. "Maybe... I hope so." She tugged again.

"Sam already tried that." It appeared as if Gavin had finally found his voice.

"Yeah well," she countered, a smile evident in her voice. "Sam doesn't always try that hard." Buffy grasped the handle with both hands and pulled as hard as she could, but still the door stayed closed. Dammit. However, before Gavin could make some sort of a 'I told you so' comment, her ears perked up, picking up the muffled sound of a gunshot. It was so quiet that she wouldn't have heard it without her Slayer hearing. Looking at the teenagers, she saw that they were oblivious to the noise. "You two, stay here."

"What?" Kat asked, startled by the other girl's suddenly serious features. "What's wrong?"

"Just stay here!" The blonde looked around the room wildly, finally spotting her forgotten crowbar and scooping it up. After a moment's hesitation, she also grabbed the discarded duffel bag, realizing that without it, the boys didn't have any salt or lighter fluid to burn the bodies. Idiots. "Protect yourselves. And watch out for us!" And with that, she was sprinting down the hall toward the basement. Spotting a sign declaring "Boiler Room," she burst through it and flew down the stairs, the loud click of her heels echoing off of the plain white walls. She slowed to a stealthy walk when she heard Sam's voice filtering from an open door at the bottom of the stairs.

"That's the difference between you and me. I have a mind of my own. I'm not pathetic like you." His voice was cold and calculating, but she could hear the raw emotion behind his words. Swiftly following the sound of his voice, she peered into the room only to see Dean on the ground and Sam standing over him with a shotgun in his hand.

"So what are you gonna do, huh? You gonna kill me?"

"You know what?" Sam answered, clicking her tongue in annoyance much like Giles used to. "I am sick of doing what you tell me to do. We're no closer to finding Dad today than we were six months ago."

"Well, then, here. Let me make it easier for you." Wincing in pain, Dean took a pistol out of his jean pocket and held it out to Sam. His eyes widened slightly as he saw her around Sam's legs, but he quickly turned his gaze back to his brother. "Go on. Take it. Real bullets are gonna work a hell of a lot better than rock salt. Take it!" Sam seemed to be mulling it over but looked hesitant. "You hate me that much? You think you could kill your own brother? Then go ahead." Buffy watched as Sam's fingers flexed, but he still didn't take the gun. "Do it!"

"No!" The second that Sam dropped his shotgun to the floor and reached out for the pistol, Buffy took a running leap at him, sending them both tumbling toward the floor. Her momentum and the added weight of the duffel bag sent her skidding across the room, and by the time she managed to right herself, Sam was already standing in front of her with his previously discarded shotgun pointing at her chest. She hadn't even seen him move. Before she could jump out of the way, he pulled the trigger, and for the second time that evening, she found herself on the floor with rock salt embedded in her flesh. She gasped and brought a hand to her chest. This time it had hurt more. The wind had been knocked out of her, and it wasn't just a graze like last time. The stinging in her arm felt like a paper cut compared the now gaping wound in her chest. Bad day to wear white. There was no saving this shirt now.

"And you," he said, walking over to and staring down at her. "What are you even doing here?"

"Ow, dammit! I am so tired of people shooting me!" she managed to grind out, still coughing from the impact. He continued as if he hadn't even heard her.

"You don't belong here." The blonde watched in morbid fasination as a drop of blood seeped out of his nose and collected at the rim of his upper lip. He brought up a hand to hastily wipe it away before continuing. "You have friends, family. What the hell are you doing here?" He pointed the shotgun at her once again. "We don't need you. We were fine without you! Why don't you go back to wherever the hell you came from and leave us alone?" A glimmer of doubt flickered in Buffy's eyes as she listened to his words. Did he really feel this way? He had told her he wanted her to stay only a few days ago, but how could be sure she had been telling the truth? Maybe he was telling the truth now. "You're selfish and a coward. You wouldn't be here if you really cared about them!" His hatred for her was pouring off of him in waves, and she sat there, speechless for a few moments. Then, she opened her mouth to respond but was immediately cut off.

"Sam!" Sam's head snapped to the side, and the gun dropped heavily onto her leg as Dean appeared in her peripheral vision. When she sat up, still wincing, she saw Sam lying in a heap on the floor next to her. With a groan, Buffy let herself collapse back on the floor, her head making a dull thud against the concrete, and her hand clutching at her injured chest. The searing pain was still there. She let loose a shaky laugh, utterly stunned by what had just happened.

"People keep shooting me," she mumbled, turning her head to the left to meet Dean's gaze. He dropped to his knees beside her, staring down at her sympathetically. From the look of it, Sam had also shot him in the chest with that damn salt gun.

"I know," he said with a sad smile, tucking a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear and helping her to sit up. They both winced at the movement.

"You have more layers than me," Buffy continued, glaring slightly at his mobility. Apparently his jacket had cushioned some o the blow. Lucky. He laughed.

"I know."

"What happened?" With Dean's help, she shakily got to her feet and looked around, brushing some dust off of her shirt and away from her wounds as she did so. "Why's he all... like that?" She looked down so that he wouldn't see the pain in her eyes, but he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder all the same. Now wasn't the time or place. They had work to do.

"Ellicott did something to him." Well, duh. "Take it easy, I'm gonna look around. We gotta find that body." Grabbing a jug of salt and a lighter out of the discarded duffel, he wandered off, leaving her standing next to an unconscious Sam.

"Like hell." Keeping her now bloody hand pressed against her chest, Buffy glanced around the room, not seeing any decomposing bodies. "Man, I love this job," she muttered sarcastically, jealous of the normal people who didn't have to seek out and burn dead bodies on an almost daily basis.

"I found it!" came Dean's triumphant announcement, and she turned toward the voice. She could see his shadow crouched behind a white privacy screen in the far corner of the room. Swiftly crossing the room and emerging from behind the screen, Buffy stopped, gagging slightly as the smell of a decomposing body assaulted her nostrils. Seeing that she had followed him, Dean turned to her with an equally disgusted look on his face before popping open the box of salt and pouring a liberal amount over a body that had been stuffed in the cabinet in front of him. "Yeah, soak it up."

"Give the boy a cookie," the blonde muttered, sending him an impressed smile, and he grinned back at her. Her head snapped up as her spidey senses started to tingle, and before she could even react, the smooth metal table that she had rested her hand on had shot out from beneath her palm. Her surprised gasp was muffled by a loud crash and a grunt as the table slammed into Dean, sending him tumbling to the floor a few feet away from the cabinet. Then, a gray-skinned man with a messed up eye and a tattered coat appeared next to him and placed his hand on either side of his surprised face. "Dean!"

"Don't be afraid. I'm going to help you. I'm going to make you all better." Buffy watched in horror as blue currents of electricity shot from his fingers into Dean's face as he screamed, and in the blink of an eye, she found herself lunging at the duo. She panicked as her hands slid right through him without connecting with anything solid, and her mind briefly wondered how he could be holding Dean, yet she couldn't touch him. The blonde let out a panicked yell, and spying Dean's lighter lying a couple of feet away, dropped to her knees and reached out for it. Buffy wrapped her small hand around the cool metal with ease, and after a five second struggle with the lighter, she managed to ignite it and toss it into the cabinet containing Ellicott's salted bones. The second the flame had touched his former body, Ellicott retracted his hands and backed away from Dean. In the blink of an eye, Buffy was at her lover's side, pulling him backwards as the fully-formed Ellicott in front of them disintegrated until there was nothing left but a pile of clothes.

"Are you alright?" the Slayer asked, panicked, as she yanked Dean to a sitting position and held him at arm's length to assess his injuries. Not seeing anything too critical, she pulled him into a hug, all pain in her chest forgotten. His arms wrapped around her slender waist, holding her tight, as he buried his face in her neck, whispering assurances that he was fine. Looking over Dean's shoulder at the dusty pile of clothes on the ground, Buffy frowned. "Why didn't his clothes go all poof?" Dean smiled against her neck, the deep rumbling laugh vibrating into her chest as they held each other.

"I don't know." The two looked up at a groan from the other side of the room. Sam had come to, and he was sitting up with a confused look on his face, frowning as he rubbed at the bottom of his jaw where Dean had punched him. Buffy felt Dean's jaw tighten slightly, but he raised his head from her shoulder and looked his brother straight in the eye. "You're not gonna try to kill us, are you?"

"No," Sam answered with a shake of his head, still rubbing his sore jaw.

"Good." Dean's gaze shifted back to the floor. "Because that would be awkward."

Without another word between them, the three hunters gathered up their supplies and made their way through the dank maze of hallways toward the entrance. Now that Ellicott had been properly disposed of, the doors opened with ease, and Buffy shooed the two relieved teenagers outside before following after them.

It was almost morning when they gathered by their cars. Buffy shivered and wrapped her arms around herself as the brisk dawn air flitted over her bare skin, but a second later, Dean had wrapped his warm, gray jacket around her shoulders. She smiled up at him, a smile that he easily returned, before the two of them turned back to the teenagers in front of them.

"Thanks, guys." Kat, too, was rubbing her hands against her arms, but Buffy assumed that the gesture was out of nervousness rather than the cold. She handed Dean back the shotgun before smiling and letting her now empty hand drop to her side.

"Yeah, thanks," Gavin agreed, nodding.

"No more haunted asylums, okay?" Dean smiled at them briefly before engulfing Buffy's hand in his and pulling her toward the waiting Impala. Over her shoulder, the blonde watched as the two teenagers nodded before heading in the direction of their own car. "I don't know about you two, but I'm starving." The corners of her mouth turned up at that. Even after all they had been through that night, Dean was still thinking with his stomach. Typical.

"Hey, guys," Sam said, stopping just short of the car. "I'm sorry. I said some awful things back there." Dean quirked an eyebrow.

"You remember all that?"

"Yeah." He looked down, suddenly finding his hands very interesting. "It's like I couldn't control it. But I didn't mean it." Pause. "Any of it."

"You didn't, huh?" Dean looked skeptical. His voice was low and emotionless, but looking up into his eyes, Buffy could see that he was just as conflicted as Sam was.

"No, of course not." Dean shrugged, gripping her hand tighter than he probably realized. If she had been a normal girl, she would be looking at a couple of broken fingers. "Do we need to talk about this?" Dean shook his head, letting go of his hand so that he could throw the duffel bag in the trunk and enter the car from the driver's side.

"No." His tone of voice left no room for discussion. "I'm not really in the sharing, caring kind of mood. I just wanna get some food." Without another word, he got into the car, yanking the door closed with a final bang. Sam then turned his kicked-puppy gaze to Buffy, and she gave him a tight smile, slipping into the back set behind Dean despite Sam holding the front door open for her.

They drove the fifteen minutes back to their motel in silence, the only sounds filling the car being the purr of the engine and the soft clinking of Dean's ring on the steering wheel. Dean was out of the car almost before he had parked and killed the engine, and he merely muttered an order for pancakes, bacon, and sausage before disappearing behind the closed door of their motel room. Buffy spared a glance over her shoulder at the peeling green door before turning and following Sam toward the diner across the street.

His head was bowed and his shoulder hunched as he slowly shuffled through the gravel parking lot. She caught up with him as he stepped through the glass doors and waited in silence as he placed his and Dean's orders. The diner was nearly deserted due to the early hour. Looking out the window, Buffy could see that the sun had just begun to peek over the trees lining the quiet street. At the waitress' questioning gaze, she ordered the waffles for herself and then trailed after Sam as he settled into one of the garish red and white leather booths to wait for their food. She easily slid into the booth opposite him and watched as he seemed to fold in on himself, his shoulders still slumped and his eyes staring pointedly down at the table.

"You meant it, didn't you." It was a statement, not a question. Her voice was quiet, but his brown eyes snapped up to meet her green ones as if he had been slapped. Still, he didn't answer her. "What you said to Dean," she clarified, slumping down in the booth so that her head rested against the sticky leather seat. She was exhausted. He seemed to be getting ready to deny her claim, but after a second, he sighed.

"Yeah. I did." His voice was equally as soft as hers had been, but she could see the hidden emotion behind his curt words. Buffy crossed her arms over her chest, snuggling deeper into Dean's jacket. A couple of hours ago, she would have instantly been at his side to whisper comforting words in his ear, but now, all she did was wait as he continued to stare down at the table. He struggled with his words for a few moments before looking up at her. "I don't understand." Sam sighed once again, his fingers skimming across the smooth surface of the table. "His devotion to Dad. He does whatever he says, does whatever is asked of him. He never questions it. I don't understand."

"It's not your place to understand." The Slayer shifted so that she was sitting up straight in the booth. Sam's eyes flickered up before he went back to examining the surface of the table. "People are different. You and Dean are different. You're looking for answers. He's looking for orders." They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence as Sam kept his eyes glued to the table and Buffy kept her eyes glued to him. "And me?" His gaze once again shot up to meet hers.

"What?"

"What you said to me. Did you mean it?" He kept his eyes focused on hers in what seemed to be a gesture of assurance, but she didn't miss how his gaze flickered back to the table briefly before answering.

"No." He seemed to grow smaller under her gaze as she stared at him, but after a moment, she nodded and looked away.

"Alright."

The two sat in silence as they waited.

…...

Buffy lay still and unmoving in Dean's embrace until his breath was even and shallow and Sam's soft snores filled the small room. With the grace only a Slayer could manage, she slipped out from under Dean's protective arm and stood up from the bed. The thick drapes were pulled tight across the window, blocking out the bright afternoon light, but she easily maneuvered around the room despite the darkness. Being as quiet as she could, she pulled on a pair of jeans and one of Dean's discarded shirts before extracting a folded piece of paper from her duffel bag and placing it gently on the pillow her head had just vacated. She circled the bed and came to a stop next to Dean's prone form, bending slightly at the waist and placing a chaste kiss on his soft lips. The Slayer held her breath as he muttered something and shifted on the bed, but a second later, he had fallen back into a deep slumber.

With one last glance at Sam laying sprawled out and twisted in the sheets on the other twin-sized bed, she deftly swung her duffel bag over her shoulder and crossed the room toward the closed door. The door clicked open with a swift flick of her wrist, and without a sound, she exited the room and closed the door behind her.

She sighed, glancing back at the dirty green door and pulling the slipping duffel bag further up her shoulder before turning on her heel and making her way to the nearest bus station.

…...

Well, that's it for now! I feel bad leaving you all with a cliff hanger, but I'll be back soon. I promise!

To all of you who don't want her to go back to Sunnydale, she WILL be going back, but there's no reason why she should have to stay there! *grin*

Drop me a review on your way out!


	11. Confronting Old Memories

Disclaimer: Joss owns Buffy and the gang, and Kripke owns the boys. Don't sue me! :)

I am soooooooooooooo incredibly sorry that it took so freaking long for me to get this out. Real life has sort of been taking over lately, and it's been getting in the way of things that I actually like to do. Now that I've hit my stride with his fic and life has calmed down a bit, hopefully I'll be able to update more regularly.

Thanks (and love and kisses and cookies) to all of you guys, especially BloodyPasion, Princesskarlita411, daring2dream, Anigen, fiducia, and M.J Writer.

Also, thanks SO FREAKING MUCH to sarbear over at tthfanfic for a WONDERFUL fanart for my story. If anyone knows how I can get an image to show up on fanfiction (as an image, not a link) please let me know! I'd love to display it here.

Buffy's heaven speech was obviously taken from "After Life." I didn't think that I could write anything better or more poignant than that, so why not let the girl say it in her own words? :)

Also, the last bit of the chapter was taken from the Angel episode "I Will Remember You," with my own little thoughts and descriptions thrown into the mix.

xXx

It was nearly dawn when she arrived on his doorstep.

If the courtyard to a huge freaking hotel could be considered a doorstep, that is.

After a cheap, crappy flight and two short bus rides, Buffy had finally arrived in Los Angeles. It had taken less time that she had anticipated, and it had still been pitch black when she debarked the bus a few blocks from Angel Investigations. Well, where Angel Investigations used to be. The office she had visited a mere two years ago was no longer standing; instead, there was a construction site and a sign announcing that a bank was to be built in its place. Lost, tired, and grimy, the Slayer had stumbled into a demon bar she remembered from her summer stay in LA in order to gather information about where her former lover had relocated to. Luckily, he was still in the city.

Half an hour later, she had ended up here.

Buffy glanced curiously around the small courtyard, taking in the lush foliage, elegantly barred windows, and moderate sized fountain housing a female statue with some sort of urn on her head. It was nice, much nicer than his old office, and she absently wondered how he had been able to afford it. The bartender at the demon bar had informed her that he had switched locations almost a year ago, and she had been hurt that he hadn't told her. Sure, she hadn't visited since that whole debacle with Faith, but it would have been important for her to know. You know, if an apocalypse had turned up or something. Not like they ever had a shortage of those.

The blonde closed her eyes and let out a deep breath before glancing over her shoulder in the direction of the street she had just come from. The sun was starting to rise, casting a reddish glow over the horizon, but she knew that he was already safely inside. She could feel him even after all of these years, and grasping the intricate bronze handle and letting herself inside, she wasn't surprised to see him waiting for her in the lobby. She _had_ been standing outside for a good five minutes trying to muster up the courage to go in.

Seconds ticked by as the former couple stared at each other.

"I'm sorry," Buffy muttered, her eyes sweeping over his all-black-clad form before dropping to the deep red carpet of the foyer. "I told you I would stop showing up here unannounced..." He didn't answer her, but as she looked up, he crossed the room in a few frantic strides and wrapped her up in his arms. Her duffel dropped to the floor, resulting in a dull thump as the weapons it contained made contact with the carpet, and her eyes shot closed as his lips descended on hers. She started as his hands wound around her waist and through her blonde hair, but she quickly gave in, allowing him to kiss her until she was breathless. Buffy sighed, relaxing her small frame against his. What was it about him that could made her feel like a sixteen year old girl again?

And as soon as it had started it was over, leaving her panting and staring blearily up at him. From the look of things, he wasn't faring much better.

"You're here," Angel stated, his silky voice as soft as hers had been only moments before. He was looking down at her like he had never seen anything like her before, his deep, chocolate brown eyes a mixture of surprise and relief.

"Yeah, I am." A few moments passed as the continued to hold each other before they both remembered what these moments had the tendency to lead to. Almost in tandem, the two stepped back, Buffy once again looking down at the carpet and Angel burying his hands deep in the pockets of his black slacks.

"Come on in." He led her further into the lobby of the hotel, watching her closely as she took in the brightly colored tile floor, numerous windows, and high ceilings. It was even more impressive inside than outside."Yeah, I upgraded," Angel acknowledged, reading her mind, or perhaps her dumb-struck expression, as she looked around.

"How?" the blonde questioned once she had found her voice. Once again settling her gaze on her former lover, she saw that he had picked up her bag from where she had dropped it in the foyer and swung it over his shoulder. Buffy gave him a small smile at his chivalry, and he smiled back before answering her question.

"I stayed here once in the 50s," Angel answered, with a cryptic shrug of his shoulders. Buffy wasn't surprised; he had never been one to over share about his life before he had met her. He guided her over to a plush red velvet couch and motioned for her to sit. She did so gratefully, exhausted from her trip. She had never been able to sleep on planes or buses, and the child who had continuously kicked the back of her chair on her flight all the way from Illinois to California hadn't helped. Angel shrugged, dropping the bag by the foot of the couch and settling himself down beside her. "It was abandoned, so I decided to buy it, fix it up, and set up shop."

"How?" Buffy echoed her earlier question, leaning her head back against the soft cushion and closing her eyes.

"You get a lot of interest from leaving money in the bank for over 200 years." Opening her eyes, she focused them on the man beside her and saw that the corners of his full lips had turned up in an amused smile. Mentally, she raised an eyebrow in question. He had never been one to smile, at least since their little debacle with Acathala, instead remaining guarded and sombre around her. His new-found lightheartedness was a pleasure to witness, but she couldn't help wondering where it had come from.

"Yeah, I guess you would." The Slayer flashed him a tired smile and sighed, curling her legs underneath her. There were a few moments of comfortable silence before she broke it. "So, you're probably wondering what I'm doing here, huh?"

"The thought had crossed my mind."

"I was on my way back to Sunnydale," Buffy started but found herself trailing off. Angel nodded in a 'go ahead' gesture, and she took a second to gather her thoughts before continuing. "I run away. It's what I do." No point beating around the bush.

"I remember." His smile was back, but this time it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"I was hunting," the blonde continued. Nervously, she tucked a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear. She winced inwardly as her hand came into contact with her dirty locks. "I met two guys who knew all about the baddies of the world, and I joined them." She watched Angel's face carefully as his eyes shifted to where his hands laid folded in his lap. "I couldn't come back here. I couldn't face them." She knew he understood that she meant the Scoobies, and he remained silent. "I hated being here. It was so loud and bright and violent." Her own eyes shifted down to her lap as she absently picked at a frayed hole in the thigh of her jeans. "After being... there, it was so hard being here. It was like I was in hell." His head snapped up at that, and she glanced up, jarred by his sudden reaction. "What?"

"Where were you?" The question was innocent enough, but the panic behind his words caused her heart to speed up.

"What?" His thinly-veiled panic made her panic, and she leaned forward slightly, resting a gentle hand on his trembling knee.

"When you were... gone." He couldn't bring himself to say the word 'dead,' and even with the use of 'gone,' his eyes clouded with sorrow. "Where were you?" The seconds ticked by as his deep brown eyes bored into hers.

"I, uh," Buffy started, growing increasingly confused the longer she looked at him. "I don't know. I was happy. Wherever I... was, I was happy. At peace. I knew that everyone I cared about was all right. I knew it." She paused, struggling to convert her thoughts and feelings into words. "Time didn't mean anything. Nothing had form, but I was still me, you know? And I was warm, and I was loved, and I was finished. Complete. I don't understand about theology or dimensions, or any of it, really, but I think I was in heaven." At the last bit, he looked away, and she could have sworn she heard him growl. She definitely heard the string of colorful curse words that he muttered under his breath. "What?" Buffy asked for the third time, confused by his reaction. She hadn't expected this. Shock, probably. Confusion, definitely. But anger?

"They thought you were in Hell." Huh?

"Huh?" she heard herself say.

"Willow, Xander, Dawn," Angel clarified, running his fingers through his typically-gelled hair and leaving it sticking up more than usual. It would have been adorable if it hadn't been such a dire situation. "They thought you were in Hell, and they..."

"Willow did this." It wasn't a question, but he nodded anyways. At this revelation, everything snapped into place. Being ripped from heaven, waking up in her grave six feet under. She had been pretty out of it at the time, but Buffy did vaguely remember a magical aura lingering at her grave the night that she dug herself out of the ground. She hadn't paid it any attention, being too scared and horrified to be back, but now that she thought about it, it was so clear. Of course it had been Willow. She was surprised that she wasn't shocked by this news, but then again, what had she thought had happened? She had never really given it much thought.

"That idiot child." Angel was muttering again, and all Buffy could do was watch as he rose from the couch and stormed over to the desk in the corner of the lobby. She had never seen him like this. He was always the one who kept cool when she was panicking. Now that the roles were reversed, she had no idea what to do. "Playing with magic. Not thinking about the consequences." He continued to rant quietly to himself as he picked a phone up from the desk, but before he could dial, the Slayer had crossed the room and taken the phone from his hand.

"No," she insisted, placing the wireless phone back in its cradle. "Not like this." The vampire seemed to understand what she was asking of him, and he walked back over to the couch, though the angry expression on his face did not fade. "You weren't surprised that I was alive." He sighed and dropped back onto the couch in the spot that she had previously been occupying, flinging his arm over his face in a very non-Angel show of dramatics.

"Spike told me." Buffy nodded, sitting down next to him and resting her head on his shoulder in a gesture of comfort. Her mind was still spinning at the revelation that it was Willow who had brought her back, but she was too tired to tackle that issue at the moment. Immediately, he reached out an arm and wrapped it around her shoulder, drawing her closer to him. "He's been all over the States trying to find you." At her surprised noise, he sighed again. "He never found you, of course, but whenever he got a lead, he followed it." Pause. "He loves you, Buffy." An edge of jealousy tinged his statement, and his armed tightened imperceptive around her shoulders. She smiled softly, reveling in the feeling of being in his arms once again.

"I know he does."

The two sat in silence for what seemed like forever, simply enjoying each other's company. Buffy found herself drifting in and out of sleep, Angel's protective grasp and the comforting familiarity of his unique scent causing her to doze off. Of course, the peacefulness didn't last long.

"Oh it's you." Buffy started awake, her eyes snapping open to reveal Cordelia staring down at them with a frown on her face. From the look Angel was wearing, he hadn't sensed her approaching her either. The former cheerleader had changed a lot since Buffy had last seen her. Her hair was shorter now, falling only to her shoulders when it had previously hit the middle of her back, and it was substantially lighter. She looked older, more seasoned, and she had lost the viscous gleam in her eye that had prompted Buffy's instant dislike of her so many years ago.

"Hi, Cordy," the greeting was somewhat unenthusiastic, but the Slayer attributed that more to her exhaustion than her dislike of the brunette.

"You've finally come back to California, then," the taller girl continued, sending her a withering glare before turning and bustling about at the desk across the room. "About time. It's not like protecting SunnyHell was your job or anything." Buffy frowned. Well, maybe she wasn't as different as the Slayer had assumed.

"Cordelia," Angel reprimanded, withdrawing his arm from around the blonde's shoulders. She immediately missed the contact.

"I got a call about a vamp nest over on 86th," Cordelia announced, completely ignoring what he had said. "You should take care of that." Angel sighed but nodded.

"Alright." He turned to Buffy, and she nodded before the question had even made it out of his mouth. "Want to come?"

"Yeah, sure." She hadn't had a good fight in a while, and slaying with Angel was always a good time in her book. It had been a long time, and she was curious if it would go as smoothly and effortlessly as it used to. Ignoring the death glare that Cordelia shot her way, the blonde bent down to retrieve two stakes from her duffel before standing and hefting it over her shoulder. With a questioning look at Angel, who had also risen to his feet, she crossed the room and tossed her bag behind the counter at his nod. "But how are we...?" Buffy trailed off, gesturing toward the window. The sun had finally crept up from below the horizon, casting a reddish glow through the lobby. "With the sun, and you and the dust." She clarified unnecessarily. He was already crossing the lobby to an unmarked door on the other side of the spacious room.

"The hotel has built in sewer access," he answered, and she detected a small note of pride in his voice. She chucked, and without another word to Cordelia, followed him through the door and down to the basement.

xXx

The fight had a grueling one, and Buffy knew that she would be feeling it in the morning. After half an hour of schlepping through the sewers, they had arrived at a dank, abandoned duplex on 86th Place just as the sun arched over the trees lining the quiet street. Angel had made a mad dash for the shade that the over hang of the building offered, cursing slightly as small plumes of smoke wound their way out from underneath the blanket he was using as a shelter. Unaffected by the warming light of the sun, Buffy sauntered after him, her hand attached firmly to where the stake was resting comfortably in the pocket of her dark-wash jeans.

"You alright there?"she had whispered in amusement as she sidled up to where he had been pressed flush up against the side of the building in an attempt to shield himself from the golden rays. With an exasperated eye roll, the vampire had immediately crashed through the boarded-up front window of the house, leaving her to scramble in behind him.

It had been quite a while since the blonde's last full-on fight, and she had struggled slightly. She had refused to show it, but her punches were not as strong and her reflexes were not as quick as they had been before she had left Sunnydale. If he had noticed, he hadn't mentioned anything, and the two warriors had spent the next half an hour back to back, protecting each other as they had since they had first met. They hadn't kept score, but Buffy had been slightly overjoyed to see that she had dusted three more vamps than him despite her being out of practice. The vamps had not been fledglings, and both Slayer and vampire had struggled to keep up with their sheer numbers.

As the clouds of dust from the fifteen vampires had settled in the air, the two champions had collapsed to the floor, Buffy having using Angel to break her fall against the dirty hard wood. They had laid there for several moments, enjoying the contact and panting from exertion. But as soon as it had began, it had come to an end, and after accepting a hand up, Buffy had followed Angel out of the decrepit home and back to the hotel.

Without a word to Cordelia upon entering the lobby, Angel had shown her to her room, the room directly across from hers on the seventeenth floor, and bid her goodnight. With a promise to drive her to Sunnydale that evening, he had pressed a chase kiss to her forehead and backed out of the room, leaving her to gaze in awe at the accommodations that had been provided for her.

As soon as he had closed the door behind him, Buffy crossed the room and fell face first onto the bed, her arms flung to the side, as her duffel dropped with a muffled thump onto the carpeted floor. The room was exquisite. Decorated in rich reds and golds, there was a huge four-poster bed in the middle, surrounded by antique tables, chairs, and vases. The Slayer smiled as she flipped over on her back, drinking in the decor that was so uniquely Angel. Simplistic and minimalist but with a hit of Gothic sophistication.

She was exhausted enough to fall asleep right then, but she managed to drag herself out of bed and into the bathroom, keenly aware of the dirt and grime that had built up on her skin since the previous afternoon. Buffy stripped off her clothes, wincing slightly as she pulled a sore muscle, and reached into the shower, frowning slightly as she took in the partly used body washes and shampoos. A wave a jealously flowed through her as she thought of the other women that Angel had obviously been entertaining at his hotel, but she quickly squashed it. She had to be the world's biggest hypocrite for being jealous, having embarked on a whirlwind romance with Dean almost as soon as she had met him, but this didn't stop her from being envious of the women Angel chose as company.

There would always be a little residual jealousy when Angel was concerned.

As the warm water washed over her, soothing the various cuts and bruises she had acquired from the earlier fight, Buffy finally allowed her thoughts to drift to Dean and Sam. There had been moments where she had regretted her decision, but in the end, she understood that they both would be better off without her in the picture. She could only bring more danger their way, and they had enough of that without her. They were safer without her, and that was all that mattered.

Sometimes love wasn't enough.

The blonde sighed, finally understanding what Angel had been feeling all those years ago when he turned his back on her, never even looking back as he disappeared into the smoke. It had been for the greater good, and now she found herself in the exact same situation. However, this time, she was the abandoner and not the abandonee.

And what about Willow, Xander, Giles, Spike, and Dawn? Dawn, her sister. The sister that she had left twice, first in death and then when she ran away because she couldn't handle it all. Since her mother had died, she had tried to be a good guardian for Dawn, but it was blatant. She had been a shitty one. She had been barely able to pay the bills, and she had abandoned her when she was the most needed. Would Dawn ever be able to forgive her?

Exhausted, both physically and emotionally, Buffy turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, grabbing a fluffy white towel from one of the cabinets to dry herself off with. She took a couple of minutes to patch up the worst of the cuts with a first aid kit from under the sink before wandering back into the bedroom, dropping the towel to the ground and not even bothering to get dressed. Her phone buzzed from insider her duffel bag, and she winced slightly as she bent down to retrieve it.

Sixteen missed calls.

Buffy flipped it open and scrolled through the calls, not at all surprised to see that they were all from Sam. She hadn't expected Dean to call. He was stubborn and she had hurt him, and she knew that these did not make for a good combination emotion-wise. Sighing for what felt like the thousandth time, the blonde dropped the phone on the nightstand and crawled into bed.

As the silk sheets against her naked skin and the numerous fluffy pillows surrounded her, she closed her eyes, not even trying to fight it as sleep finally claimed her.

xXx

She was standing at a crossroads.

Literally.

Buffy was at the intersection of two dirt paths, both stretching endlessly as far as the eye could see. She brought her hand to her eyes in attempt to block out the bright sunlight and scanned the area, only seeing desert and random bunches of foliage past the lip of the road she was standing on. The air was still and suffocating, and there wasn't a sound to be heard despite the outside setting. The blonde sighed, knowing that his had to be some sort of bizarre dream, and from the tingling at the back of her neck, it was going to be one of the Slayer variety.

Great. Just once, she'd like to be pleasantly surprised with a dream of Ryan Reynolds shirtless and engaged in some sort of sporting activity, bonus points if there was oil involved. Was that too much to ask?

Grumbling under her breath about stupid Slayer dreams, Buffy continued to scan the area, completely at a loss about what she was supposed to be looking for. Glancing down, she saw that she was dressed appropriately for the weather in a white dress and flip flops. Points to the PtB. At least they didn't drop her into the middle of this boiling wasteland in a show suit. Then, without warning, there was a rustle of wings behind her, and she whipped around to find herself nose to nose with a dark-haired man with piercing blue eyes.

"Jesus!" Buffy cursed as she jumped backwards, the many years she had spent as the Slayer being the only thing keeping her from screaming loudly like the girl she was. Her green eyes were wide and wild as they swept over the form of the mysterious man in front of her, taking in his odd attire. A full suit and a trench coat, complete with ominous billowiness, in this weather? Crazy much? The power radiating off of him in waves was making her dizzy, and she stumbled back a few more steps as the overwhelming heat of the blazing sun added to her disorientation.

The Slayer managed to quickly compose herself, and in the blink of an eye, she had fallen into a fighting stance. She continued to stare at him as she forced her breathing into even pants in a valiant effort to get her heart to stop hammering against her ribcage. He had made no move to attack or come after her. Really, he had made no move to do anything at all. He stood ramrod straight with his arms hanging tightly at his sides in the exact same place where he had appeared, and he was gazing intently in her general direction. His eyes never focused on her, and the fact that he seemed to be looking through her rather than at her was more startling than his sudden appearance out of thin air.

The two strangers stood in silence for a few moments before his clear blue eyes snapped to attention, slowly and painstakingly traveling from her collarbone to lock with hers. As soon as blue met green, Buffy felt the breath rush out of her lungs, leaving her stunned and panting as he assessed her. She stared at him, hypnotized, and without realizing it, she found all of the tension bleeding from her muscles, leaving her relaxed and loose before him.

"Buffy Summers." His voice was low and gravely, and it took her a few seconds to realize that he had said anything at all. She shook her head slightly to clear her mind and smirked at him, hopefully appearing far more confident than she felt.

"That's me." His bright eyes continued to bore into her soul, but she fought to remain in control despite the fact that she had abandoned her fighting stance the second his eyes had connected with hers.

"I am Castiel," he supplied, never moving a muscle. When he didn't elaborate, she sighed, jutting her hip out to the right and giving him her best annoyed-Buffy look. Unsurprisingly, he didn't react in the slightest.

"Not real free with the information there, are ya?" Buffy quipped, slipping into her old habits once the shock had finally worn off. She was slightly miffed that it had taken her so long to regain her bearings, but hey, it wasn't every day that attractive men appeared out of thin air behind her. Maybe her wishes for fun, sexy dreams had come true! Of course, this guy's creepy soul-searching stare and non-existent personality were sort of killing it. "Is that supposed to mean anything to me?"

"I am an angel of the Lord." A short burst of laughter escaped her lips, but the corners of her mouth turned down as she took in his robotic delivery and the fact that his proclamation didn't continue with a "haha just kidding!"

"You're joking." A ghost of a smile drifted across his lips, but it disappeared so quickly that she was left wondering if she had imagined it.

"That is your problem, Buffy." Her name sounded foreign coming form his lips, and all she could do was stand uncomfortably as he continued to stare at her. She knew that if she attacked, he would have her on the ground in seconds. "You have no faith." The blonde wondered briefly if he was about to make a pun about her sister Slayer, but instead, his eyes turned cold, and the air around them began to crackle with electricity. The sky darkened, and as a particularly long flash of lightning illuminated the scene, large shadowed wings grew from his form, silhouetted black against the light gray sky behind him.

And just like that, they were gone, the brief storm leaving a once again cloudless blue sky in its wake. She blinked, and in place of the imposing man that had stood before her seconds earlier, Castiel was back to looking like a mild mannered tax accountant.

"That was some light show," Buffy agreed, one perfectly-sculpted eyebrow arching up in semi-sarcastic admiration. "But how do I know that you're really an angel and not some figment of my imagination here in dream-land." She gestured absently around her, but his eyes did not follow her movements.

"I assure you, I am not a figment of your imagination." The blonde sighed. Her annoyance with his once sentence answers was growing by the second. She didn't really believe him, but not that it really mattered. She was here to learn something, and that was all. She didn't really care who was doing the teaching. _He can teach me any day_, a little voice that sounded suspiciously like Faith supplied, but she shook it off. Stop it.

"What do you want?" Buffy was tired of this little game and wanted her answers so that she could return to the land of the conscious. Or of more fun, less Slayery dream. His crypticness, in addition to the heat, was starting to make her cranky. She flipped the long blonde hair over her shoulder, whining internally as it stuck to the back of her sweaty neck. Stupid sun.

"I come bearing a message." He must have noticed the muscle ticking in her jaw because he continued a second later without her having to prompt him. "You will return to the Winchesters."

"Oh, right away, _Dad_." The Slayer rolled her eyes at him, but his face didn't change at all, and it kind of took all of the fun out of the comment. "Seriously? You think I'm going to go back just because some 'angel of the Lord'" – she included airquotes to which he looked confused – "tells me to? Sorry, buddy. I have family, friends, and a duty back in Sunnyhell." She looked around at the intersecting paths, and something clicked. "Really? Crossroads? Could you have picked a place any more cliché than crossroads for this little heart to heart about my life decisions?"

"Our location is unimportant. The only import-..." She cut him off, but he didn't put up a fight. He fell silent the second that she interrupted him, as if he had never been interrupted before and didn't know what to do about it.

"You _are_ hotter than my last messenger, though," Buffy mused, looking him up and down. He really was. He had dark brown hair and sharp features, and she would bet that he was rocking a killer body underneath all of those unnecessary layers. "You know, in that pale, serious, accountant-looking way. Whistler, well, let's just say that he was seriously lacking in the fashion department. Bright green shirts and shiny hats? Not exactly something you'd find in this year's summer line. But I gotta tell you, I always pictured angels more with the togas and fluffy white wings and less with the trench coats and snappy suits."

"This is not a productive topic." She could tell he was getting exasperated with her from the tone of his voice, but nothing in his face or body language indicated his growing impatience with her.

"Fine, fine." Buffy relented, holding her hands up in a sarcastic gesture of surrender that was completely wasted on him.

"You must return to the Winchesters," the angel repeated. "There is an apocalypse on the horizon." Buffy simply rolled her eyes.

"There's always an apocalypse. Like, every year. Literally. They're big boys. They can handle it."

"Not an apocalypse," Castiel clarified. His eyes continued to bore into hers, and Buffy wondered if he ever blinked. Or moved. Or did anything other than stare at people for inappropriately long periods of time. "The Apocalypse. The End of Days." Huh, that was new. "Sam and Dean Winchester must remain alive to avert it. Without you, they will die." Buffy blanched at the thought of the boys dying, but she plowed on.

"They can take care of themselves," the Slayer insisted, her voice wavering only slightly. She wasn't sure if she was trying to convince herself or Castiel. "They're smart and strong and they take care of each other. I'm needed in here. My sister, Wills, Xander, Giles, Angel. They need me." She paused for a second before adding, "and I need them." She wasn't quite so sure of that last part, but that was what she was here to figure out, wasn't it?

"The vampire?" Castiel asked, his eyebrows furrowing ever-so-slightly. The gesture was so brief and insignificant that she was sure she would have missed it if she had chosen that moment to blink. "The vampire cannot be trusted."

"What do you mean?" Buffy asked, and this time, she was the one to furrow her brow. "He's the most trustworthy person I know." The words were out of her mouth before she even had the chance to think about them, a gut reaction to someone attacking her former lover.

"That's right," Castiel mused, and the Slayer could have sworn that something reminiscent of sympathy flitted through his piercing blue eyes. "A forgotten memory, buried deep in your mind." This time, only one word made it through the confused haze of her brain and out of her mouth.

"Huh?" He stepped forward, stumbling slightly at the movement. This earned him another raised eyebrow. "Having some technical difficulties there?" If he had been a regular, emotion-feeling person, Buffy would have sworn that the next look he shot her was a scowl. As it was, the look on his face was more half not paying attention and half constipated.

"This is a new vessel."

"Sure it is." Now past his initial awkwardness at walking, he moved so quickly that she didn't even have the chance to step back before he was standing right in front of her with his middle and pointer fingers pressed against her forehead. "Hey, what the hell are you-..."

Surprised, Buffy blinked, but when she opened her eyes, she was no longer standing at the crossroads. Instead, she was standing on a gravel path, looking out at the ocean. To her left was a pier, the edge closest to the water littered with various food shacks and a Ferris Wheel, and below her was a dark, asphalt road. Beyond the thin strip of road was a long expanse of sparkling sand, and beyond that, clear blue water.

But the weirdest part was that she was looking at herself. She was tanner and her hair was longer, but there was no mistaking it. Buffy watched in awe as her likeness turned its head sharply to the left, and she followed its gaze to a foliage-covered arch immersed in the shadows of the tall tree that it was situated under. And then something miraculous happened. Angel stepped out of the shadows into the sunlight, his face alight with wonder, and with a smile, he crossed the distance between imaginary Buffy and himself before pulling her into a kiss.

The scene faded to white, and before she knew it, she was standing the small kitchen of Angel's old apartment. Buffy gasped in surprise as she watched the younger version of herself allow herself to be hoisted up onto the table by Angel as plates, cups, and other miscellaneous items clattered haphazardly to floor. He embraced her, kissing her like he had by the sea, and real Buffy stumbled, caught off guard by the emotions that were forcing their way from he couple into her own body.

After this, the scenes switched quicker, some so short and choppy that she had trouble keeping up. Angel returning to bed with a tub of ice cream. The two of them fighting some blue-ish demon in the sewers. Making passionate love atop his black silk sheets.

Buffy watched each scene with increasing emotion, her breath coming in short, erratic pants as her eyes followed the movements of herself and her former lover. Just as she managed to get her bearings, the scene faded again, reforming once again in Angel's old kitchen. This time, the lust and passion were gone, replaced instead by overwhelming sorrow and despair.

The Slayer watched with bated breath as her twin paced wildly in the small space of the kitchen, dressed in a long, flowery dress. Her eyes flickered every few seconds to the clock on the microwave, and when Angel appeared at the top of the steps leading from the upstairs, she let out a relieved sigh. Unable to move, Buffy's eyes traveled over the couple as she worried her bottom lip between her teeth.

"I'm guessing that expression isn't because they were all out of fresh OJ at the deli," Dream-Buffy quipped, though the comment did little to veil the worry in her voice. "What happened?"

"Nothing happened," Angel answered softly, but it was apparent that he was trying to look at anything but her. "I just..."

"Where have you been?" she insisted, grabbing his shoulder that he would look at her.

"I went to see the Oracles. I asked them to turn me back." Real-Buffy watched, her heart pounding in her throat as his sorrow filled eyes met her twin's frightened ones. Why didn't she remember this? Was this all fake? It was a trick, she was sure of that.

"What? Why?"

"Because more then ever I know how much I love you." Twin tears streaked down both Buffys cheeks as they regarded him with wide eyes.

"No." Dream-Buffy insisted, backpedaling away from her lover with a wild look in her eyes. "No, you didn't." Angel followed her, backing her up against the kitchen table. She looked around wildly, trapped with no place to run.

"And if I stayed mortal, one of us would wind up dead. Maybe both of us."

That's when Buffy zoned out, unshed tears blurring the scene in front of her as Angel and she talked. She remembered this day. The Mohra demon. Oh, God. She stumbled, catching herself from falling on a nearby chair. The blonde sunk down into it, staring ahead of her without fully seeing the exchange that was playing out on the other side of the room. She had come to LA, pissed that Angel had spied on her on Thanksgiving. She had come to yell at him, which she did, and then she left. She couldn't have stayed more than ten minutes.

A soft rustle of wings alerted her to the fact that Castiel had appeared by her side. She didn't look up at him, and he made no move to comfort her.

"It's not true," Buffy mumbled, bringing a hand up to swipe wildly at the tears now coursing down her cheeks. "You're lying. It's not real," she repeated, her voice soft and raw with emotion.

"It is true," came his low, gravely voice, but this time she could sense some repressed emotion clouding his words. She wasn't sure if it was compassion or pity, but it didn't matter either way, did it? "That day you confronted the vampire in Los Angeles, you were attacked by a Mohra demon." Buffy shook her head, refusing to believe it even though she knew that it was true. "He was infected. He became human."

"So, what?" The other Buffy was now practically yelling, her voice high and shrill as she flailed her arms about wildly. "You just took a whole 24 hours to weigh the ups and downs of being a regular Joe and decided it was more fun being a superhero?" Castiel's soothing voice faded into the background as she once again focused her attention on the fighting couple, struggling her hardest to keep from sobbing. It wasn't going so well. She wanted nothing more to run to him, to have him hug her like he was hugging the other Buffy, but she knew that it wouldn't be possible. She was a ghost here, forced to witness a memory that she never had.

"You know that's not it," Angel countered, his voice hitching in his throat. Buffy continued to sob unabashedly, caught off guard with the raw emotion that the vampire was feeling. "How can we be together if the cost is your life, or the lives of others?" After a moment, he took Buffy into his arms and held her close, making soft shushing noises as she sniffled into his shoulder. "I know. I couldn't tell you. I wasn't sure... if I could do it if I woke up with you one more morning." Dream-Buffy was able to compose herself, but Real-Buffy was having no such luck. She hunched over in the chair and dropped her chin to her chest, winding her hands into her blonde locks in an attempt to block out the scene. She felt a light hand on her shoulder, and looked up to see Castiel looking down on her with an impassive look on his face.

"A minute?" The younger Buffy was now in hysterics, too, clutching to Angel as she sobbed. He wasn't faring much better. He had his arms wrapped tightly around her, and silent tears were winding their way down his own cheeks. "No. No it's not enough time!"

"We don't have a choice. It's done." It was clear that he was holding it in in an attempt to calm her down, but this only made both Buffys more hysterical. As Castiel's grip tightened on her shoulder, Buffy sobbed into her hands, unable to take her twin's hysterical cries and Angel's soft words of comfort. She had never seen him so emotional, and the fact that he was attempting to stay so calm and collected broke her heart. He had always been there for her, so strong when she was so weak. How could he have kept this from her? They could have shared the pain together. Did he even know? Maybe he didn't know.

"He knows," came Castiel's voice in her ear. "He has always known." Her stomach dropped.

"How am I supposed to go on with my life knowing what we had?" Dream-Buffy asked, staring deeply into Angel's pain-filled eyes. "What we could have had?"

"You won't. No one will know but me." Angel's voice was rough, and Buffy watched as his tears soaked steadily into other-Buffy's blonde hair.

"Everything we did...?"

"It never happened." Buffy stood up on wobbly legs, feeling Castiel's attempt at a comforting gesture disappear the second she left the chair. She turned away from the scene, unable to witness it any longer, but before she could take one step, his grip had refastened on her wrist, holding her in place.

"You must see. You must know what he kept from you." All of the compassion present in his earlier statements had disappeared, returning to its cold, emotionless tone from earlier. Buffy glanced at him briefly but returned her attention to herself and Angel, too emotionally drained to fight his orders.

"No!" Buffy was panicking now, grasping at her lover so hard that it would leave bruises. "Oh, God. It's not enough time." Quietly, Angel shushed her, finally having given into his grief. He sobbed quietly, his body wracked with sobs that shook both of them. "No. I'll never forget. I'll never forget. I'll never forget..."

The scene faded to white one last time, leaving Buffy and Castiel standing once again at the crossroads. He pulled her to look at him, ignoring her anguished sobs, and looked her straight in the eye, commanding her to listen to him.

"You will return to the Winchesters. It is your destiny."

And with that, he was gone, leaving her alone in the desolate wasteland. As the hot sun beat down on her, she didn't even notice his departure. Distraught and hysterical, Buffy collapsed to the dirt road beneath her, not even realizing as the rocks and pebbles ripped at her bare knees.

xXx

That was a little traumatic for me to write. I was tearing up a bit at the end there.

I am aware that Angel's voice is a bit off. I've never been able to write him very well, but I hope it wasn't too distracting. This is my version of how he would react to the situation that he was put in.

Next stop: Sunnydale!

As always, drop me a review on your way out! Love you all. *kisses*


	12. Conversations and Arrivals

Disclaimer: As always, Joss owns Buffy and Kripke owns Supernatural.

Warning, not a lot happens in this chapter. Originally, I wanted to include her scene with the Scoobies, but I was having a huge case of writers block (obviously, as I have not updated this story in like A YEAR) and wanted to get something out for you guys. Hope you enjoy and that my muse kicks it into gear and churns out another chapter ASAP!

Love to tontied, MrsGooglyBear, JessAngelus, nightshadowlife, Nefertiry, Abigael Ryan, InTheHallOfFlame, chibichibi98, enchanted nightengale, daring2dream, Princesskarlita411, and BloodyPasion for all of your wonderful, wonderful reviews and for sticking by me even though all of the writer's block! Kisses! 3

Enjoy!

xXx

She was half way to the door before she realized that she was completely naked.

Though the haze that was her racing mind, she remembered that she had not dressed before getting into bed before her nap. Quickly pulling on a robe that was draped over a nearby chair, she crossed the distance between her and the door and grasped its handle, yanking it open with a quick tug. The loud bang of the shiny metal doorknob hitting the wall behind it barely registered, and in the blink of an eye, she found herself staring at the smooth polished wood of Angel's door.

The blonde was shaking with anger and silent sobs, tears streaking down her flushed cheeks as she raised a tight fist to knock on the door in front of her. Her hand connected with the dark wood, but instead of the soft thud she had been expecting, the door flew off of its hinges and into the pitch-black room. The fury and sorrow she was feeling rushed from her body, leaving her in stunned silence as a thunderous crash echoed through the room and into the hallway. The ringing in her ears from the sound disoriented her, and she stood motionless, her hand still raised and clutched into a fist.

He didn't scream or shout in surprise, but he did let out a barely-audible gasp. He had always been a quiet one.

It only took a second for the Slayer's eyes to adjust to the darkness they had been plunged into. Beyond the blackness caused by the tightly closed curtains, she could see him sitting up in bed, clad in only a pair of boxers, having thrown the sheets off of him in surprise. At the sight of her, Angel let out a small sigh of relief, and she could practically feel the tension slipping from his body. All she could do was stare as the vampire gracefully slid out from under his black silk sheets, and strode toward where she was standing in the doorway, her petite frame silhouetted against the soft glow of the hallway lamps. Buffy let her raised hand fall loosely to her side while her eyes tracked his almost-predatory movements as he crossed the room and stopped a less than a foot in front of her.

"I, uh..." In her shocked state, the Slayer couldn't seem to wrangle her thoughts, and she continued to stare up at him as he loomed over her. The tears in her eyes had dried instantly at the shockingly aggressive burst of strength that had knocked the door off of its hinges, but she could still feel the moisture coating her flushed cheeks.

"What? What is it?" The surprise and alertness had had previously been clouding his features slipped away, leaving confusion and worry in their wake. Angel was looking at her with those soulful brown eyes of his, and she sucked in a breath, her tongue worming its its way out of her open mouth to moisten her now parched lips. "Have you been crying?"

Getting no response from her, the vampire grasped the despondent Slayer by the shoulders, shaking her slightly in an attempt to rouse her from her startled state. The action finally shocked Buffy out of her thoughts, and she instinctively stepped back, remembering the dream that had landed her in front of her former lover's door. Before she realized what was happening, her hand had formed into a fist at her side and had propelled itself upwards and outwards straight into the side of Angel's face. He swore loudly as the punch connected, staggering backwards at the blow.

"You knew?" the Slayer screamed, the pain and sorrow she had been feeling turning to anger in less than a second. "All of this time. You knew?" Her voice was shrill and loud, the volume and raw emotion behind it shocking them both. She made no move to enter the room, her feet firmly planted on the soft carpet and her arms shaking at her sides.

"What are you doing?" Angel roared, still reeling from the blow, and through the haziness of her anger, Buffy could see that he had transformed. In the dim lighting, she could make out the bright yellow glisten of his eyes, and she stared, transfixed, at the small stream of blood that tricked out of his nose and into his snarling mouth. In a second, it was gone, his features once again rearranging into those of the man she loved. "What was that for?" The volume of his voice had also returned to normal, but there was something about the way he stalked toward her that had Buffy's muscles tensing.

"You knew," she repeated, her voice, like his, returning to its normal volume. He reached out to her, but her slight flinch had him stopping in his tracks. "That day. The Mohra demon. You knew all this time." The memories of the vision that Castiel had shown her flooded her mind, and her throat started to close up as the hurt and sorrow once again started to overtake her. "The park. The sewers. Those last few moments in your apartment." She was starting to get hysterical again and backed up a few more paces, feeling her back hit the smooth wall of the hallway. Buffy flung her arms to the side, desperately trying to find something to grasp onto but finding none as her knees grew week and her vision blurred with tears. All of the strength that her adrenaline and anger had given her bled from her body, leaving her weak and vulnerable.

"Buffy." The tension in his muscles from her earlier attack had disappeared, and she could see the defeat in his eyes. "How did you find out?" His voice was now quiet and raw, something that she rarely heard from him. It was reminiscent of the pain present in her vision, and it only served to quicken to flow of tears down her cheeks.

"Does it matter?" she managed to choke out before she felt her legs give way, and she slid to the ground. Before she could reach the plush carpet, Angel had crossed the short distance between them and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his lap and making soft shushing noises. She both hated and loved him for that.. "Why didn't you tell me?" Buffy started to calm at the contact, her sobs turning into sniffles as she burrowed her face into his neck. She rarely allowed herself to get emotional, Slayer strength and all that, but this had thrown her for a loop, and she had always felt the most vulnerable in his arms.

"I didn't want you to know," he started, and paused, clearly waiting for an argument. When none came, he continued. "You have no idea what it's like, living with the memory of that day. I finally had everything I wanted. I had you." The vampire sighed and shifted their combined form so that he could lean up against the wall with his former lover cradled between his outstretched legs.

"Why'd you give it up?" Of course she knew why, but she needed to hear him say it. The tears had stopped as she sat unmoving in his arms, willing the moment never to end. When he held her, it was like she was sixteen again, the two of them cuddled up under a tree in one of Sunnydale's numerous cemeteries when she was supposed to be patrolling. Everything faded away, and it was like the last four years hadn't even happened. But listening to him reliving that day made it painfully obvious that they had.

"I knew we couldn't be together if the cost of your life, or the lives of others." Hearing him utter something so similar to what that he had said that day had her heart breaking all over again, and the tears were back, threatening to overtake her vision. Buffy closed her eyes, allowing them to drop onto his bare chest, barely listening as he continued. "I didn't want you to have to live with it. It's the hardest thing that I've ever had to do. Each and every day, I relive those moments with you." His grip on her tightened at her renewed tears, but she still couldn't bring herself to say anything. "I wanted to you be able to move on. You know that we'd never work. It's why I left you in the first place. I wanted you to find love, even if it wasn't with me. And it looks like you have." The last part was spoken so softly that she might not have been able to hear it if it wasn't for her Slayer hearing.

"It's not-..." she started, looking up at him, but he interrupted her.

"You know it is." He was right, of course he was, but the look of sorrow in his eyes was too much for her to bear. She looked away, guiltily focusing her gaze on the carpet beneath them. "I'm happy for you." He wasn't. "It's what I wanted." It was.

"I'm sorry." Buffy knew that the apology would mean little to him, but she felt the need to explain herself anyways.

"Don't be," Angel replied, sliding a finger under her chin and tilting it up so that she was looking him straight in the eye. "You've moved on. It's what I wanted."

"I haven't!" She was starting to panic now, the emotions coursing through her making her nearly hysterical. "I love you. I will always love you just as much as I did when I was sixteen, but you left, Angel. You left me, and I had to learn to live without you. It was horrible."

"I just-..."

"No, Angel!" Buffy interrupted. She had never been able to say these things to him, and it felt like a huge weight was being lifted from her already over-burdened chest. "You left, and I never got to say this. But, dammit, I'm going to say it now!" He wisely stayed silent at her outburst. Satisfied, she continued. "Learning to live without you was the hardest thing I've ever had to do, but I did it. You were gone, and I had to figure out who I was without you." She paused. He was still staring at her with rapt attention. "So yes, I found someone else. He's sweet, and stable, and yes, it might be love. But that doesn't mean that I've stopped loving you. I will always love you."

"I know."

And with that, their moment was over. There was nothing else to be said.

With a small cough, Buffy struggled to regain her motor functions and extracted herself from his arms, standing and offering him a hand up that he easily took. As he stared down at her, she started to fidget slightly, scuffing her bare foot against the soft carpet.

"Well. We should get going." Looking over her shoulder into her room, the blonde saw that the sun had set sometime during the course of their discussion and nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, I guess we should. Are you still okay with driving me?" Angel nodded, and though the shimmer of sadness was still present in his eyes, he had arranged his features into an impassive mask. Damn, he really was good at that.

"Yeah. I am." And with that, the two disappeared into their rooms to freshen up and get dressed, closing their doors and leaving the moment far behind them.

xXx

The two hour drive had been made in almost complete silence, both champions thinking over to the conversation that had happened in the hallway and Buffy feeling especially guilty about it. After seeing the raw emotions that the memories had brought up in her former lover, she regretted bringing them up, as they had inevitably led to the discussion of her new love. Castiel's vision still fresh in her mind, she spent the majority of the drive mulling over her relationship with Dean and the decision to leave him. Sure, they hadn't been together for nearly as long as she and Angel had, but he already that all of those abandonment issues from his and Sam's childhood. Had she made the right decision? Castiel's appearance in her dreams and dire warnings had made her start to second guess herself. Would he and Sam be alright without her? Of course they would. They'd been hunting for years. Even longer than she had, in fact.

"We're here." His soft comment startled Buffy out of her contemplative state, and she looked up to see that they were parked in front of her old house.

"So we are." From the car, everything seemed calm, the complete opposite of how she had left it. The light through the windows cast soft shadows onto the lawn in front of the house, and she could see the curtains blowing slightly from an open window in one of the second floor rooms. Her room. "Looks the same." A wave of nostalgia swept over her, but it passed quickly as the blonde moved to exit the car. "Will you round everyone up and have them meet at the Magic Box in an hour? There's something I have to do." Angel nodded before turning away from her. He had barely said two words to her since they had left Los Angeles, but Buffy couldn't really blame him. They had both been through a lot. "Alright. See you in a bit." In one swift motion, she had swung open the door of the black convertible and effortlessly slid off the leather seats. Slamming the door behind her, the Slayer turned her back on the vampire and disappeared down the street, her heels clicking against the all-too-familiar pavement.

xXx

Her hand shook slightly as her fist hovered less than an inch from the dark wood of the door. She coughed and took a step back, desperately trying to stop herself from fleeing the scene. Her large hazel eyes darted around the almost-too-familiar courtyard, taking in the weathered stone fountain and abundant amount of semi-wilted house plants.

"Come on, Buffy. You can do this," the blonde muttered, her gaze once again zeroing in on the clover-shaped pattern surrounding the black door knocker. "Slayers are known for their courage."

They were also known for their early expiration date, but that hadn't really stuck either.

With another nervous cough, she grasped the cool metal and slammed it against the door twice. It's task complete, Buffy's hand fell back to her side where it immediately slipped into the pocket of her jeans. After a few seconds of anxiety-ridden silence, the door whipped open, causing her to jump slightly. She felt a slight prickling in the corner of her eyes at the sight of him. She had never been much of a crier, but apparently the last couple of days had changed that.

Clad in jeans and a light gray sweater with just a hint of his white undershirt peaking out from beneath his collar, he looked at her somewhat dismissively before waving her in and turning away, leaving the door ajar.

"Come in." Shocked at his flippancy, Buffy followed him through the entry way and into the living room, giving the door a small push to close it as she passed. His back was turned to her, and around his tensed frame, she could see him reaching for a glass of scotch that was settled amongst a disheveled pile of papers on the wooden desk in the corner of the room. He barely spared her a second glance before shuffling about the space, busying himself with anything he could get his hands on. He never once looked her in the eyes. "How was patrol?" The lack of emotion in his voice startled the Slayer, and she blinked in confusion a few times before her voice box reactivated itself.

"Wh-what?" Her voice hitched in her throat, and she coughed, trying to rid it of its sudden parched feeling.

"How was patrol?" He finally turned toward her, slowing his words dramatically as if he was talking to a small child. His expression was arranged in an odd mix of exasperation and indifference, an expression he had never directed at her. Usually it was one or the other.

"I..." And then it clicked. The bot. He thought she was the bot. Willow must have fixed it after the fight in the alley. "Giles." The emotion in her voice caused him to peel his gaze away from the chair in the corner and settle on her. "It's me." There was a moment of stillness before he reacted.

"Buffy?" The gaze of wonderment directed at her was so intense that she had to look away, instead studying a potted plant in the corner. Giles rarely showed any overt emotion, and whenever he did, it often overwhelmed her. "Good lord, is it really you?"

"It's me, Giles," she assured him, once again attaching her eyes to his. "Buffy Summers, Slayer extraordinaire, back from the dead and reporting for duty."

"Oh, Buffy." With more speed and grace than she thought capable of him, he crossed the distance between them in a few long strides and wrapped his arms around her, clinging to her as if he couldn't believe that she was really standing in front of him. A few long moments later, he stepped back, looking red, flustered, and extremely embarrassed. "I'm sorry." He coughed awkwardly, and for the first time, she noticed that he wasn't wearing his usual round-framed glasses.

"Don't worry. I won't tell anyone," Buffy promised, the corners of her mouth turning up in amusement. She really had missed him. Not that that was surprising. "What's happening there with your lack of glasses?" she added, pointedly waving her hand around in front of his face. He stood, stunned, for a moment but then chucked, the sound bouncing off the walls and going straight for her heart.

"Contacts," her mentor and former Watcher answered, bringing a hand up to rub lightly at his eyes. "Still getting used to them."

"They suit you."

With that, they smiled at each other, and it was like she had never left.

xXx

"Oh God. I don't think I can do this."

Pseudo father and daughter stood side by side staring up at the obnoxiously bright blue awning of The Magic Box. After Buffy had arrived, Giles had bombarded her with questions in his typical freakishly-efficient and emotionally-restrained way, but she hadn't answered, not wanting to have to explain where she had been more than once. She could see the annoyance behind his now spectacle-free eyes, but he merely nodded, accepting her decision.

He wasn't angry with her. She was surprised at that. After being gone for the better part of a year, she had expected a repeat of one of his "shirking her duties" speeches but received none. She guessed it was because he was so surprised and overjoyed to see her alive. The speech would come later, that she was sure of. That would be fun.

"You can." The confidence in his voice did nothing to quell the over-active butterflies in her stomach. She had no idea how long they had been standing here, making no move to enter the shop. It couldn't have been that long, but to her, it felt like hours.

"Giles, they're going to hate me." The Slayer was staring straight ahead, her gaze never wavering from the slightly faded sign, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw him turn his head toward her.

"They could never hate you." If only that was true. With a deep sigh, Buffy nodded.

"Okay. Here we go." Pause. "Any second now. Yeah, I'm totally moving." But before she could take one step, there was a screeching of tires, and she looked up to see a shiny black Impala barreling around the corner. The blonde was momentarily blinded as the headlights hit her straight in the eyes, and she brought up a hand in an attempt to shield them. The car stopped five feet away from them against the sidewalk, and the driver killed the engine. Her eyes now fixed on the two silhouettes in the front seat, her heart sank, the previously fluttering butterflies turning to lead and dropping in her stomach. "Giles, go inside. I'll be right there."

He cast her a worried glance, but her tone of voice left no room for argument, so he slowly left her side and headed toward the shop. The second the door closed behind him, the passenger's side door opened, and a pair of impossibly long legs slid out. Before she could even process what was happening, Sam was standing in front of her, his eyes wide and a genuine smile plastered on his face. His heartbeat pounded rapidly in her ears, making her dizzy.

"Sam..." Her voice sounded distant, and she struggled with what to say next, but the tall brunet cut her off before she could make it any further.

"Thank God!" Relief and eagerness showed on his face, and he was still smiling. "You didn't answer your phone, and I knew you'd be here. I knew you'd be here, and I knew we had to go after you. And you are! You're here!"

"Sam, I-..." the blonde started, but he interrupted her again. His elated expression disappeared only to be replaced by a sorrowful, kicked-puppy one. It was sweet and endearing and she loved him to death for it, but his prattling on and on really just made her want him to shhhhh.

"I'm so sorry for what I said. I didn't mean any of it. And you know I would never do or say anything to hurt you. Things between Dean and I have been strained over all of that stuff with Dad, and when I was possessed, I took it out on you. I didn't mean it. I didn't want you to go. I love having you with us and I-..." The words were pouring out of his mouth so fast that she was sure he'd pass out soon if he didn't slow down.

"Sam!" Buffy finally managed to blurt out, shocking him into silence. "Breathe! Seriously!" His big, brown eyes stared down at her, and she sighed, shaking her head. "Look, I know that part of you meant what you said." His mouth opened, but she raised a hand, effectively quieting his impending denial. He still looked like he wanted to argue but wisely stayed quiet. "No, you did. And I understand why. It's been you and Dean for so long, and all of a sudden, here I am, 24/7, all up in your personal bubble. I get it. No biggie." When she was sure he wasn't going to say anything, she let her arm drop back to her side. "But you didn't hurt me. I didn't leave because of what you said." Sam gave her a look. "Alright, that's a lie. Of course I did. What I meant was that I didn't leave because I was hurt. Or angry. Or whatever. I left because what you said was true. I do have a family and friends here. It was selfish of me to leave them. To go on with my life without checking on them."

The next few seconds of silence stretched on for what seemed like hours. Sam didn't say anything. She knew that he agreed with what she was saying, but he was too much of a gentleman to say anything about it.

"But you and I? We're good. Peachy with a side of keen. Promise." She could tell that he was hesitant to believe her after her lies in the diner, but after a second, he smiled at her and nodded. Before she knew what was happening, he had reached down and enveloped her in his mile-long arms, a huge that she easily returned.

"What are you going to do?" She sighed, pulling back and tucking a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "Are you going to stay?"

"I haven't quite figured that out yet." Buffy gestured toward The Magic Box, and his eyes flitted toward it before snapping back to hers. "I have... some things to tell the gang. Did you want to... I mean it might help..."

"Yeah. Of course." The Slayer hesitated before glancing at the black Impala a few feet away. She had felt Dean's gaze on them the whole time, but as soon as she turned his way, his head snapped to the side as he feigned interest in a tree across the street.

"Wait here for a second?" At Sam's nod, she cautiously walked toward the car, watching through the front window how Dean was pretending not to see her approaching figure. When she reached the driver's side door, a good five seconds passed before he sighed and rolled down the window. "Hey." Buffy inwardly winced at the casual greeting. So lame.

"Hey," came his curt response. He still wasn't looking at her.

"Dean... I'm so-..."

"It's all good." His eyes finally met hers, and she was shocked at the lack of warmth reflected in him. Gone was the adoration and amusement, replaced instead by bitterness and barely-concealed pain. She shouldn't have been surprised; she had expected it. He was hurt and rightfully so.

"But, Dean, I-"

"I said, it's all good," he cut her off again and turned away, gathering up some supplies before yanking the keys from the ignition and shoving open the door. Buffy jumped back slightly, her Slayer reflexes the only thing keeping her from being hit by the hard black metal. With her effectively out of the way, Dean exited the car, slamming the door shut behind her.

"Dean."

"Looks like there's some sort of party going on.," he observed, looking toward the Magic Box. "We wouldn't want to miss that." His voice was emotionless and clipped, an unwelcome change from his normally playfully sarcastic tone. Without another glance at her, he sauntered toward the shop, his gun now tucked into the back of his jeans and his car keys slipped safely into his front pocket. A frown on her face, the blonde followed after him, feeling Sam easily fall into stride with her as she passed him.

"He'll come around," came his helpful observation, and she nodded, though she wasn't sure he would. And he had every right not to.

"Yeah, sure." As they drew closer to the shop, Buffy's Slayer hearing kicked in, filling her ears with a medley of voices that she had been so sure she would never hear again.

"Seriously, G-man. What's going on? Why's Deadboy here?"

"Xander! Be nice!"

"What? He never comes. Something's gotta be wrong. Apocalypse-wrong. Did you go evil again and find another statue to suck us all into Hell?"

"Seriously, Giles. What's the what? Why are you being all avoidy?"

"Yes, what's going on? All of this standing around and doing nothing is cutting into my orgasm time."

"Ahn!"

Dean came to a dead stop in front of the door, forcing Buffy to call on all of her Slayer reflexes in order to keep from walking right into him. Sam had no such luck. The older Winchester shot him a glare before stepping to the side and giving Buffy a clear shot of the door. As her heartbeat pounded in her chest, she took a step forward and placed her hand on the slightly-weathered doorknob.

"Well, here goes nothing."

xXx

Hope you liked it! Again, I will try to get the next chapter out as soon as I can. Hopefully it won't be another year...

Reviews are always appreciated!


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